KARL 

EDWIN 

HARRIMAM 


SADIE 


\ 


"  Beside  him,  her  face  drawn  and  ashen,  Sadie   crouched — one 
hand  pressed  to  her  cheek." 

[Page  287.] 


SADIE 


The  Story  of  a  Girl,  Some  Men,  and 
the  Eternal  Fitness  of  Things 


By 
KARL   EDWIN   HARRIMAN 


D.    APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 
NEW    YORK  MCMVII 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Published  October,  1907 


TO 

EDITH 


2136068   ' 


CONTENTS 


CHAFTfeR  PAGE 

I. — KELSEY'S  NUMBER  ONE i 

II. — THE  HEGIRA 10 

III. — BAGDAD 21 

IV. — THE  ADVENT  OP  SADIB 33 

V. — BILLY  THOMPSON  DISSERTATES    .        .        .        .  43 

VI. — A  DESERT  CAVALIER 53 

VII. — SKINNY  MCGREGOR 62 

VIII. — THE  DANCE  AT  SAN  Luis 79 

IX. — SADIE  INTERVENES 101 

X. — AN  EXCHANGE  OF  CONFIDENCES         .        .        .118 

XL — A  LETTER  BACK  HOME 133 

XII. — AN  INTERCEPTED  MESSAGE 142 

XIII. — BAGDAD  BOOMS 150 

XIV. — SKINNY  TELLS  A  STORY 166 

XV. — JERRY  ROWLEY  PROPOSES 178 

XVI. — SADIE  EXPLAINS 196 

XVII. — THE  CONFESSION  OP  SKINNY       ....  203 
XVIII. — THE  MAN  FROM  KANSAS  CITY     .       .       .       .221 

XIX. — AT  THE  WATER  TANK 229 

XX. — "THE  MONTB  " 241 

XXL — THE  PASSING  OF  SKINNY 260 

XXII. — A  DEBUT  is  PLANNED    ......  270 

XXIII. — THE  OPENING  OF  THE  PALACE    .       .       .       .  280 

XXIV.— WELL,  AFTER  ALL— 29° 

vii 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 

"  Beside  him,  her  face  drawn  and  ashen,  Sadie  crouched — • 
one  hand  pressed  to  her  cheek "     .       .        .        Frontispiece 

"  '  And  if  I  don't  deliver  the  goods    .    .    .    it's  because  my 
name  ain't  Sadie  Morrison  '  " 18 

"Lawton  staggered  around  the  end  of  the  station    .    .    . 
revolver  in  his  hand" na 

"  On  the  eastern  slope  sat  Sadie  and  Watrous  side  by  side  "  .    296 


SADIE 

CHAPTER   I 
KELSEY'S  NUMBER  ONE 

THE  hands  of  the  octagonal  clock  over  the  cash- 
ier's cage  in  Kelsey's  No.  I  indicated  eight  min- 
utes after  twelve.  Since  noon  a  coatless  cohort  had 
filed  through  the  narrow  entrance  and  defiled  to  the  semi- 
circular stool  counter  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  or 
formed  in  groups  around  the  multitudinous  tables  that 
crowded  one  another  in  the  middle  distance. 

Eight  minutes  after  twelve  in  Kelsey's  No.  I  may 
mean  much  or  little,  depending  upon  whether  the  reader 
be  a  dweller  in  Kansas  City  or  a  resident  of  Elsewhere, 
though — it  may  be  said  in  passing — to  the  Kansas  citi- 
zen, native  born  or  acclimated,  there  is  no  Elsewhere. 

Kelsey's  No.  I  has  flourished  since  the  mind  of  man 
runneth  not  to  the  contrary — in  Kansas  City;  but  since 
the  beginning,  so  far  at  least  as  it  is  known,  Kelsey — the 
Kelsey — has  not  once  appeared  upon  the  scene  of  his 
gastronomic  triumph.  About  the  place  itself — to  patrons 
and  to  employees  alike — he  is  but  a  legend,  a  pale  tra- 
dition, a  mere  cognomen,  without  form  or  substance, 
and  this  despite  the  fact  that  "  Kelsey's  pie  "  and  "  Kel- 
sey's buttermilk  " — in  season — are  known  to  every  weary 

I 


Sadie 

traveler  who,  descending  from  a  dusty  car  in  the  clamor- 
ous Union  Station,  a  biscuit  toss  away,  ever  accosted  the 
first  official  porter  whom  he  chanced  to  meet  with  the 
question  which  makes  all  mankind  kin: 

"  Say,  where  can  I  get  something  to  eat?  " 
Nor  is  it  strange  perhaps  that,  together  with  his  pie 
and  buttermilk,  Kelsey's  "  girls  "  should  occupy  a  plane 
apart.  The  genius  Kelsey,  catering  to  famished  man, 
foresaw  in  the  beginning,  it  would  seem,  the  necessity 
or,  rather,  the  wisdom,  of  aestheticizing  appetite  by  a 
simultaneous  ocular  appeal,  for  in  all  the  years  that  Kel- 
sey's No.  i  has  swung  its  tarnished  sign  above  the  heads 
of  hurrying,  hungry  man,  "  Kelsey's  girls,"  as  familiarly 
they  are  called,  have  been  known  in  the  vernacular  of 
the  road  as  "  the  peachiest  pie  slingers  between  Chi- 
cago and  the  coast !  "  Equally  facile  in  opening  and 
scooping  clean  the  luscious  shell  of  cantaloupe,  or  holding 
their  own  in  an  across-board  conversation  more  pictur- 
esque, perhaps,  than  proper,  judged  by  the  accepted 
standards  of  Eastern  civilization,  many  of  them  have,  in 
the  years  that  are  gone,  graduated  from  the  stool  coun- 
ter or  the  little  iron-rimmed,  wire-legged  tables,  and 
taken  their  places,  without  apparent  jar,  in  the  rococco 
drawing-rooms  of  Montana  copper  kings,  or  the  lone- 
some haciendas  of  Panhandle  cattle  princes.  Western 
girls  all,  children  of  the  soil,  there  is  about  them  some- 
thing— perhaps  an  aura — strangely,  markedly,  missing 
from  their  sisters  of  the  farther  East.  Call  it  what  you 
choose;  buoyant  cheerfulness  as  manifested  in  dancing 
eyes  and  flashing  teeth ;  perfect  confidence,  as  suggested 

2 


Kelsey's  Number  One 


in  the  poise  of  chin  or  firmness  of  their  carriage — or 
what  not;  there  are  many  ticket  scalpers,  warehouse 
clerks,  and  railway  employees  who  feel  their  hearts  go 
thumping  in  their  breasts,  as  at  five  minutes  after  twelve 
they  approach  the  narrow  door  of  Kelsey's  No.  I. 

Within  fifteen  minutes  from  the  arrival  of  the  first 
coatless  messenger  before  the  noon  whistles  had  ceased 
to  tear  the  quivering  atmosphere  of  this  torrid  summer 
day  every  stool  at  the  counter  held  its  clamoring  man, 
and  all  the  tables  near  the  entrance — where  was  to  be 
had  a  whiff  of  the  outer  air  as  now  and  then  a  late 
arrival  entered,  mopping  his  beady  brow  upon  the  sleeve 
of  his  colored  shirt — were  filled.  The  superheated  atmos- 
phere of  the  place  was  thick  with  the  heavy  odor  of  hot 
food,  and  above  the  clatter  of  the  solid  dishes  and  the 
clang  of  cutlery  upon  them,  rose,  stridently,  the  cryptic 
wails  of  the  waitresses,  and  the  echoes  from  the  kitchen 
beyond  where,  at  long  steam-tables,  twelve  men  and  boys 
in  white,  square  caps  and  crumpled  aprons  carved  and 
ladled  and  scooped  and  spread  the  specialties  of  the  day. 

"  Draw  one  with  brown  on  the  side  and  two  in  a 
cup ! "  cried  a  tall  blonde  creature  across  the  room. 

"  Ham  and,  for  three !  "  shrilled  another,  at  the  same 
time  punching  the  check  of  a  "  bread-and-milker,"  who 
had  already  finished. 

Between  the  regular  frequenters  of  the  place  and  the 
girls  who  served  them  appeared  to  exist  an  easy  famil- 
iarity, a  quality  of  good  fellowship,  almost  indeed  ca- 
meraderie,  as  might  have  been  gathered  from  the  snatches 
of  jibing  conversation  audible  now  and  then. 

3 


Sadie 

Maggie,     I     ordered     corned     beef,     not     corned 


boot- 


"  I  told  that  guy  to  be  careful ;  that  you  was  particu- 
lar," was  the  quick  reply,  accompanied  by  a  smile  de- 
signed, no  doubt,  to  compensate  the  complainant  for  any 
lack  of  savor  in  the  food  that  she  had  served  him. 

"  Janet,  here,  wait  a  minute,"  called  a  little  man  with 
watery  eyes  and  a  scant  mustache.  The  Diana  of  the 
dishes  paused  in  her  mad  rush  to  the  kitchen  and  looked 
down. 

"  How  about  to-night  ?  "  pleaded  the  little  man. 

She  shook  her  head  and  made  to  go,  but  he  clutched 
her  apron. 

"  To-morrow  night,  then  ?  "  he  supplicated. 

"  Nor  to-morrow  night,  neither." 

"  Won't  you  ever  go  ?  "  Another  would  have  suc- 
cumbed to  the  pathetic  note  of  appeal  in  his  frail  voice, 
but  the  girl  only  snatched  away  her  apron,  saying :  "  En- 
gagements all  the  week." 

The  little  man  seemed  to  take  heart  then,  for  he 
shouted  after  her :  "  You  must  be  running  your  date 
book  on  double  entry !  " 

She  had  no  reply  for  him  just  then,  but  as  she 
passed  the  table  at  which  he  sat  over  his  bowl  of  soup, 
on  her  return  from  the  kitchen,  she  observed,  quite  as 
if  their  conversation  had  sustained  no  interruption : 

"  You  bet  your  life  I  am,  and  I'm  thinking  of  hiring 
a  private  secretary.  Want  the  job?" 

A  score  of  sated  diners  crowded  around  the  cashier's 
cage,  and  the  continuous  tinkle  of  the  register  bell  sig- 

4 


Kelsey's  Number  One 


naled  the  fact  that  the  rush  was  over  for  another  noon. 
A  youth  who  stood  absently  by  chewing  a  toothpick,  with 
his  hand  on  the  latch  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  cash- 
ier's classic  profile,  was  nearly  upset  as  the  door  was 
suddenly  and  violently  swung  back  from  without  and  a 
girl  entered. 

"  Sure,  I'll  excuse  you ! "  called  the  young  man  iron- 
ically, as  she  moved  majestically  down  the  room,  nodding 
and  smiling  at  such  of  the  more  leisurely  diners  as  ac- 
costed her.  Limply  she  sank  upon  a  chair  at  a  table 
beside  the  window,  halfway  to  the  swinging  kitchen 
doors,  where  immediately  two  of  the  girls  joined  her. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  know  what's  the  matter  ?  " 
she  said,  before  either  of  them  could  speak.  "  Well,  I've 
quit." 

With  great  deliberation  she  drew  off  a  lisle  glove 
that  had  once  been  white,  and  smoothed  the  fingers. 

"Quit!" 

She  looked  up. 

"  Yes,  quit,"  she  declared,  "  and,  Grace,  if  you  love 
me,"  she  added  breathlessly,  "  for  Heaven's  sake  get  me 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  some  of  that  kartofal  salad,  if  there's 
any  left,  and  a  piece  of  strawberry  shortcake.  I'm  nearly 
all  in ! " 

The  blonde  creature  glided  away,  and  the  girl  re- 
maining leaned  over  the  table  and  gazed  dazedly  into  the 
newcomer's  face. 

"  When'd  you  do  it,  Sadie  ?  "  she  asked  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"Last  night." 

5 


Sadie 

Drawing  the  pins  from  her  sailor  hat  she  tossed  it 
upon  a  near-by  chair  and  straightened  her  towering 
pompadour. 

"  But  ain't  it  kind  of  sudden?    I  didn't " 

"  Some,  Frances.  I  guess  I  took  about  five  minutes 
to  make  up  my  mind,  and  maybe  half  a  minute  to  tell 
the  boss  when  I  had  it  made  up,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  Wasn't  he  s'prised  ?  "  Frances's 
eyes  were  sparkling. 

"  Looked  like  a  freight  car  had  butted  into  him.  I 
let  him  get  his  wind,  then  told  him  I  wanted  my  money." 

"  Did  he  give  it  to  you  ?  " 

Sadie  shook  her  head.  "  That's  what  I'm  here  for 
now,"  she  said. 

The  girl  Grace  had  returned  with  a  loaded  tray. 
"  Sadie,"  she  declared,  "  there  ain't  a  bit  of  kartofal  left, 
but  here's  some  cold  slaw  and  ice  cream.  They  say 
the  shortcake's  fine,  but  I  ain't  had  any,  have  you, 
Frances  ?  " 

She  arranged  the  dishes  in  a  crescent  in  front  of  the 
girl  with  the  pompadour  and  dropped  upon  the  chair 
beside  her. 

"  What's  it  all  for,  Sadie?  "  she  asked.  "  Ain't  they 
treated  you  right?  I  was  say  in'  to  Frances,  just  a  little 
while  ago,  when  the  girls  was  talkin'  'bout " 

"  Oh,  they've  treated  me  all  right,"  Sadie  broke  in. 
"  It  ain't  that.  Just  wait  till  I  plant  some  of  this  and 
I'll  tell  you." 

And  while  she  ate,  tasting  in  turn  from  the  contents 
of  each  dish  before  her,  Grace  and  Frances,  across  the 

6 


Kelsey's  Number  One 


table,  watched  her  from  eyes  of  blue  and  eyes  of 
brown  in  which  burned  steadily  the  holy  light  of  girlish 
loyalty. 

At  last  she  pushed  away  a  half-eaten  portion  of  tutti- 
frutti  ice  cream  and  leaned  back  in  the  frail,  wire-framed 
chair  with  a  sigh. 

"  That'll  help — some,"  she  murmured  contentedly. 
"  Maybe  you  think  I  haven't  walked,"  she  exclaimed, 
smoothing  her  skirt  at  the  hips.  "  I  used  to  make  fun 
of  folks  that  knocked  the  hills  in  this  town,  but  I'll  never 
do  it  again.  Maybe  I'll  miss  'em,  though,  when  I  haven't 
got  'em  to  climb  any  more,"  she  added,  and  if  in  her  voice 
as  she  spoke  or  in  her  eyes  appeared  that  instant  a  sign 
betokening  the  deadening  weariness  of  her  heart,  it  was 
lost  upon  the  two  girls  across  the  little  table. 

"  You  ain't  going  to  leave  town,  are  you  ?  "  Grace's 
blue  eyes  were  wide  with  wonder. 

Sadie  nodded.  "  Yes,  girls  " — she  spoke  with  slow 
deliberation — "  I  am — if  I  can ;  no  more  K.  C.  for  mine 
— if  I  make  a  go  of  it."  The  pale  ghost  of  a  smile  crept 
across  her  lips  as  she  spoke. 

Suddenly  in  Grace's  face  appeared  a  wonderful  radi- 
ance. "  I  know ! "  she  cried,  a-tremble  with  ecstasy. 
"  Sadie  " — she  leaned  forward  eagerly,  her  plump  hands 
clasped  upon  the  table — "  you're  going  to  get  married ! 
Oh,  Sadie,  it's  Jim,  ain't  it?  " 

Sadie's  eyelids  flickered,  and  she  drew  the  edge  of  her 
lower  lip  between  her  teeth.  On  her  lap,  hidden  beneath 
the  table,  her  fingers  curled  rigidly  in  the  palms  of  her 
hands. 

2  7 


Sadie 

With  a  little  smile  she  shook  her  head  again  and  the 
radiance  went  out  of  Grace's  face. 

"  Not  for  mine,"  she  declared  icily.  "  Not  for  mine, 
Grade."  She  laid  her  hands  on  the  table  then  and,  lean- 
ing forward,  added :  "  And  if  I  ever  do  step  off — it  won't 
be — with  Jim." 

"  Why,  I  thought,  Sadie,"  Frances  began,  but  was 
stopped  by  the  flash  from  Sadie's  eyes. 

"  I  know  what  you  thought,"  she  sneered.  "  Every- 
body else  thought  it,  too.  Maybe  I  thought  it  myself." 
She  uttered  a  little  mirthless  laugh.  "  But  it's  all  wrong." 

"  Have  you  told  him  ? "  It  was  a  daring  ques- 
tion even  in  the  light  of  their  intimacy,  and  Grace  re- 
gretted asking  it  almost  before  the  last  word  had  left 
her  lips. 

"  I  guess  he  knows,"  was  the  significant  reply. 

The  tensity  of  the  moment  was  relieved  by  Frances, 
who  inquired: 

"Where  you  going,  Sadie?  What  you  going  to 
do?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  I'll  try  to  see  the  Carter  people 
this  afternoon.  Maybe  they've  got  something." 

"  Oh,  Sadie,"  cried  the  emotional  Grace,  "  that'll 
mean  you'll  go  'way  out  west  somewhere  and  we'll  never 
see  you  again !  " 

"  Maybe." 

Sadie  dared  not  trust  her  voice  further.  More  than 
she  had  thought  herself  capable,  Grace  and  Frances  had 
made  her  feel  what  this  going  away  might  mean.  Tears 
were  gathering  in  her  eyes.  She  recovered  her  hat  and 

8 


Kelsey's  Number  One 


fumbled  for  the  pins.  "  I've  got  to  be  going,"  she  said, 
after  a  moment. 

"  You'll  run  in  to  say  good-by,  won't  you  ?  "  Frances 
asked  tenderly. 

"  If  I  go,"  was  the  vague  reply. 

Sadie's  business  with  the  rotund  manager  of  Kel- 
sey's No.  i  was  quickly  over. 

"  Just  remember,  Sadie,"  the  manager  said  to  her, 
as  they  walked  to  the  door  together,  "  if  you  should 
change  your  mind  and  decide  you'd  like  to  come  back, 
I  guess  we'll  be  able  to  use  you — anyway  in  the  fall," 
he  added,  as  if  by  way  of  afterthought.  And  from  the 
doorway  he  watched  her  as  she  crossed  the  street. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE   HEGIRA 

A  TRAVELING  man  called  the  attention  of  his 
companion  to  Sadie  as  she  passed,  apparently 
oblivious  to  the  clamor  about  her,  through  the  dingy 
waiting  room  of  the  dilapidated  Union  Station.  Wear- 
ily she  mounted  the  wide  stairs  at  the  end  and  glanced 
about  her  at  the  top.  The  corridor  was  deserted  as  she 
proceeded  less  briskly  down  its  length.  If,  since  she  had 
determined  to  leave  Kansas  City  and  the  memories  its 
streets  evoked,  she  experienced  a  tremor  of  misgiving  it 
was  now.  Indeed  for  a  little  instant  she  hesitated  doubt- 
fully and  studied  the  coarse  matting  at  her  feet.  As  she 
stood  thus  a  door  on  her  right  opened  quickly,  and  a  red- 
haired  young  man  in  his  shirt  sleeves  confronted  her.  In 
one  hand  he  clutched  a  quantity  of  correspondence,  and 
over  his  right  ear  projected  the  round  tip  of  a  blue  pen- 
holder. He  had  appeared  so  suddenly  that  Sadie  was 
startled;  then  their  eyes  met  and  she  smiled  frankly. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  the  offices  of  the  Carter 
System  are?"  she  asked. 

"  Whom  do  you  want  to  see  ?  "  the  young  man  in- 
quired. 

A  little  frown  clouded  the  girl's  forehead.  "  I  don't 
know,"  she  confessed.  "  That  is,  I  don't  know  the  name, 

10 


The  Hegira 


I  mean;  but  it's  the  man  that  hires  girls  to  wait  in  the 
eating  houses." 

He  grinned.  "  Looking  for  a  job,  huh  ?  "  The  im- 
pertinence was  redeemed  by  the  saving  twinkle  in  his 
eyes. 

Sadie  nodded. 

"  Stevens  is  the  man  you  want  to  see,"  he  told  her. 
"  That's  his  office  down  there  at  the  end ;  No.  14 ;  see  it 
on  the  transom?  He's  the  superintendent."  He  came 
nearer.  "  But  I  don't  think  it'll  do  you  any  good,"  he 
added  in  low-voiced  confidence.  "  He's  turned  down 
more'n  a  dozen  to-day.  Try  it  if  you  wanta  though." 

"  I  guess  I  will,"  Sadie  replied,  and  as  she  walked 
on  the  red-haired  youth  stared  after  her  until  she  came 
to  the  door  at  the  end  of  the  corridor,  when  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  ran  down  the  wide  stairway  humming 
a  street-organ  air. 

The  inscription  on  the  frosted  glass  stared  coldly  into 
Sadie's  face: 


THE  CARTER  SYSTEM 

OPERATING  DINING  CARS  AND  EATING  HOUSES  ON 

THE  KANSAS  CITY  AND  PACIFIC  RAILWAY 

SUPERINTENDENT'S  OFFICE 


An  instant  her  eyes  lingered  doubtfully  upon  the 
legend,  then  squaring  her  shoulders,  as  a  man  might  have 
done,  she  opened  the  door  and  entered.  Bent  over  a  lit- 

II 


Sadie 

tered  roll-top  desk  between  two  windows,  sat  a  man  in 
a  pivot  chair  who,  as  the  door  behind  him  closed,  snapped, 
without  turning:  "Well,  what  is  it?" 

A  wave  of  color  swept  over  Sadie's  face  and  she 
coughed.  The  man  looked  around  then.  Fearfully  the 
girl's  hand  still  lingered  over  the  knob  of  the  door  as 
if  she  anticipated  the  necessity  of  sudden  flight. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Stevens  ?  "  she  boldly  inquired. 

"Yes,  what  you  want?"  was  the  brutal  response. 
And  yet,  Sadie  thought,  there  was  nothing  in  his  appear- 
ance to  indicate  the  brusqueness  of  his  manner.  His 
thin,  youthful  face  was  half  hidden  by  the  tawny,  pointed 
beard  he  wore;  but  the  eyes  that  looked  into  her  own 
through  the  rimless  glasses  were  blue  and  kindly.  He 
wore  low  shoes  and  colored  stockings  and  an  office  coat 
of  some  soft  gray  stuff.  His  linen,  she  noted,  was  very 
fresh. 

"  My  name  is  Sadie  Morrison,"  she  announced,  "  and 
I  want  a  job." 

She  was  a  little  frightened,  else,  no  doubt,  she  would 
not  have  spoken  so  bluntly;  but  as  it  was  a  wan  smile 
came  into  Stevens's  face,  as  he  started  and  shifted  his 
position  slightly.  Dropping  his  eyes  deliberately,  and, 
beginning  at  the  toes  of  her  russet  leather  shoes,  just 
visible  beneath  the  hem  of  her  skirt,  he  permitted  them 
to  crawl  slowly  up  her  figure,  as  she  stood  there  by  the 
door,  one  hand  still  grasping  the  knob,  with  the  light 
from  the  two  west  windows  full  upon  her.  The  creep- 
ing eyes  noted  the  smooth  hang  of  her  brown  skirt  and 
the  patent-leather  belt,  with  its  tarnished  buckle  of  gilt 

12 


The  Hegira 


that  encircled  her  small  waist ;  the  trim,  snug-fitting  gray 
blouse  above,  dotted  with  fine  points  of  red;  the  touch 
of  livelier  color  in  the  ribbon  smoothly  encircling  her 
throat;  the  rounded  chin;  the  lips  parted  in  a  smile  over 
teeth  from  which  twinkled  the  yellow  glint  of  gold ;  the 
tilted,  inquiring  nose.  Then  his  eyes  of  blue  met  hers 
of  brown  and  lingered  upon  them  an  instant.  He  noted 
the  breadth  of  her  brow  and  the  bulging  pompadour, 
supporting  at  a  slight  angle  over  her  right  ear  the  blue- 
banded  straw  sailor  with  its  two  trembling,  imitation 
amethyst  pins  projecting  from  either  side. 

Bravely  Sadie  had  withstood  his  slow,  critical  scru- 
tiny, and  now,  conscious  that  he  was  weighing  her  ap- 
pearance— "  front,"  she  would  have  said — in  the  balance 
of  his  judgment,  she  smiled  frankly  and  inquired: 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  apt  to  forget  me,  are  you  ?  " 

Stevens  laughed  outright.  Hooking  a  heel  on  the 
rung  of  a  chair  that  stood  at  the  end  of  the  desk  he  drew 
it  around  and  said : 

"  Sit  down." 

Sadie  bit  the  edge  of  her  lower  lip  in  a  way  she  had 
and  meekly  obeyed. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  it ;  what's  the  row,  any- 
way?" 

Her  eyes  met  his  squarely. 

"  I've  told  you,"  she  said,  "  I  want  a  job,  that's  all ; 
I  don't  see  as  there's  anything  else  to  say." 

Stevens  smiled.  "  Probably  that's  so,"  he  replied, 
"  but — well,  to  be  frank  with  you,  we  have  to  be  a  little 
more  careful  than  they  do  usually.  Just  to  show  you, 

13 


Sadie 

I  can  say  that  I've  turned  down  forty-seven  girls  within 
the  week,  and  everyone  of  them  came  here  looking  for 
a  job  on  the  System,  just  as  you  have — only — well,  they 
haven't  gone  about  it  in  quite  the  same  way.  I  have  to 
judge  a  good  deal  by  appearances,  you  know;  girls  lie 
sometimes,  I've  discovered." 

"  Sometimes  we  have  to,"  was  the  frank  response. 
"  But  if  there  ain't  anything  open,"  she  added,  "  there's 
no  use  my  sitting  here." 

She  made  as  if  to  rise,  but  Stevens  put  forth  a  re- 
straining hand. 

"  Hold  on  a  minute ;  don't  be  in  a  hurry ;  I  haven't 
turned  you  down  yet,  have  I  ?  "  he  reproved. 

"  Well,  if  it's  up  to  you  to  do  it,  I  wish  you'd  do  it 
quick  and  have  it  over,"  she  replied,  without  anger. 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  until  his  feet  swung  clear 
of  the  floor.  "  Now,  let's  get  down  to  brass  tacks  if 
you're  in  a  hurry,"  he  said.  "  How  old  are  you, " 

"  Sadie,"  she  supplied,  noting  his  hesitation. 

"  Oh,  yes,  how  old  are  you,  Sadie  ?  " 

"  I'll  be  twenty-two  next  month." 

"  Live  here  in  town  ?  " 

"Uh,  huh/' 

"Any  people?" 

Her  eyes  dropped.  An  instant  she  hesitated.  "  Yes," 
she  replied  in  so  low  a  tone  that  her  words  were  scarcely 
audible,  "  I've  got  a  mother." 

"Ever  worked?" 

At  the  question  she  looked  up  quickly  and  stared  at 
him  in  wide-eyed  amaze. 

14 


The  Hcgira 


"  Ever  worked !  "  she  gasped.  "  Good  Lord,  I  ain't 
ever  done  anything  else." 

"  I  see,"  mused  Stevens.  Unconsciously  his  fingers 
had  found  a  long,  slim,  steel  envelope-opener  on  his 
desk,  and  now  they  played  with  it,  turning  it  end  and 
end,  over  and  over,  the  while  he  continued  to  search 
Sadie's  face  with  his  mild  blue  eyes. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  out  of  a  job?  "  he  asked 
after  a  moment. 

"Since  last  night." 

"  Where'd  you  work  up  to  then  ?  " 

"  Kelsey's  No.  I." 

Stevens  came  erect.  "  Oh,  I  see ! "  he  exclaimed, 
"  one  of  Kelsey's  girls,  eh ;  had  some  experience  then  ?  " 

"  All  I  could  get  over  there,  I  guess,  if  I  stayed  a 
hundred  years." 

Stevens  chuckled;  and  then  so  quickly  and  un- 
expectedly that  it  almost  took  her  breath  away,  he, 
said: 

"  What  do  you  want  to  leave  town  for  ?  " 

She  let  her  eyes  fall,  and  the  color  came  again  into 
her  cheeks.  Stevens  rose  and  went  to  the  window, 
wherefrom  was  to  be  had  a  murky  view  of  the  maze  of 
tracks  in  the  yards  below. 

"  Sometimes  a  girl — a  girl  like  me  gets  sick  of 
things,  Mr.  Stevens."  She  spoke  hesitatingly;  as  if  it 
were  difficult  to  find  words  to  express  herself.  "  Some- 
times she  gets  so  sick  of  'em  that  she  wants  to  run 
away,  where  everything's  different — folks  and  all."  She 
fell  silent. 

15 


Sadie 

Stevens  folded  his  arms  on  the  top  of  the  desk  and 
stared  at  her. 

"  Did  he  turn  you  down,  Sadie  ?  "  he  asked  cruelly. 

Her  eyes  flashed  at  that,  and  two  hard  lines  appeared 
about  her  mouth. 

"  You  bet  your  life  he  didn't,"  she  snapped.  "  I  did 
the  turning  down,  if  you  want  to  know." 

Stevens  regarded  her  quizzically  a  moment,  and  then, 
as  if  satisfied  with  what  he  read  in  her  upturned  face, 
he  said,  "  You  wait  here ;  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  and 
left  the  room.  He  returned  with  a  long  sheet  of 
"  flimsy,"  covered  with  typewritten  lines  in  carbon,  which 
he  smoothed  out  on  the  desk. 

"  I  find  there's  a  girl  needed  at  one  of  our  houses," 
he  explained,  studying  the  sheet ;  "  it's  not  one  of  the 
best  stations,  though,"  he  added.  "  In  fact,  it's  the  last 
one  we've  opened  up " 

"  I  don't  care  anything  'bout  that,"  Sadie  interrupted. 

"...  and  if  you  were  to  go  out  there  it's  likely  you'd 
be  pretty  lonesome,"  Stevens  ran  on,  without  appearing 
to  have  noticed  the  interruption.  "  You  see  it's  in  the 
desert.  Bagdad's  the  name  of  the  town;  ever  hear  of 
it?" 

"  I  ain't  ever  been  West  of  Topeka,"  Sadie  replied. 

"  It's  a  new  town  yet,"  Stevens  continued,  "  but  it'll 
be  a  peach  one  of  these  days,  when  they  open  up  the 
gold  country  North.  It's  out  by  Death  Valley,  you 
know.  Ever  hear  of  Death  Valley?"  He  looked  up. 

"  I  ain't  ever  heard  of  it,  but  it  sounds  good  to  me," 
the  girl  replied.  Stevens  laughed. 

16 


The  Hegira 


"  It  gets  pretty  hot  out  there,"  he  resumed.  "  Think 
you  could  stand  a  hundred  and  eighteen  in  the  shade,  if 
there  was  any  shade — which  there  ain't?  Think  you 
could?" 

"  Yes,  and  then  some,"  she  assured  him  with  a 
sigh. 

"All  right  "—Stevens  folded  the  sheet  of  "flimsy" 
with  deliberation — "  you  can  have  a  shot  at  it,  if  you 
want  it  at  the  salary — six  a  week,  board,  room,  and  laun- 
dry. You  won't  have  much  to  do.  When  can  you 
leave?" 

"  To-night,  if  you  say  so,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

Stevens's  pleasure  in  her  answer  was  apparent  in  his 
smile ;  a  smile  very  different  from  the  others  her  candid 
speeches  had  induced. 

"  Thompson's  the  manager  out  there,"  he  told  her. 
"  You  and  he  and  the  cook  will  have  to  hold  down  the 
place  for  a  while.  It's  a  pretty  loud  country,  you  know," 
he  added  warningly,  "  you  want  to  be  a  little  careful " 

"  I  guess  I'll  be  able  to  take  care  of  myself,"  was 
the  significant  assurance  he  received. 

"  I  know  that,  but  you'll  find  it  some  different  from 
Kansas  City,"  he  went  on.  "  You  won't  have  any  band 
concerts  in  the  park  out  there,  because  there  ain't  any 
park,  or  any  band  either.  Maybe  there  will  be  some 
day,  though.  Now  about  getting  you  there;  if  you  can 
take  No.  8  to-night,  I'd  like  to  have  you.  She  pulls  out 
of  here  at  10:10.  Can  you?" 

"  Easy,"  she  declared. 

He  stood  up.  "  All  right,  then,"  he  said,  "  make  your 
17 


Sadie 

plans.  Come  in  here  about  five-thirty  and  I'll  have  your 
transportation  ready — berth  and  all." 

Sadie  rose,  confronting  him.  Her  eyes  were  misty, 
and  as  she  spoke  there  came  a  little  tremor  into  her  voice. 

"  Mr.  Stevens,"  she  said,  "  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged. 
It's  kind  o'  smoothed  things  out  for  me."  She  looked 
down. 

Oddly  enough  Stevens  experienced  that  instant  a 
sensation  of  embarrassment. 

"  All  right,"  he  made  a  little  impatient  gesture ;  "  I 
guess  you'll  make  a  go  of  it  out  there.  I'll  wire  Thomp- 
son in  the  morning  you're  on  your  way." 

"  And  if  I  don't  deliver  the  goods,"  she  declared,  as 
she  lingered  in  the  doorway,  "  it's  because  my  name 
ain't  Sadie  Morrison."  And  Stevens  stood  a  moment 
staring  at  the  door  after  she  had  gone. 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  she  encountered  the  red- 
haired  young  man  again.  He  smiled  boldly  at  her,  and 
in  the  gayety  of  her  spirit  she  returned  the  smile. 

"  Looks  like  you  got  it,"  he  chanced. 

"  I  did."     And  she  winked  at  him  mockingly. 

The  red-haired  young  man  strode  directly  to  the  su- 
perintendent's office. 

"  Where'd  you  plant  that  peacherino  I  just  met  on 
the  stairs,  Henny?"  he  called,  thrusting  his  head  past 
the  edge  of  the  door. 

"  Bagdad,"  Stevens  replied  with  a  chuckle. 

"Bagdad!"  cried  the  other.  "Good  Lord,  Henny, 
she'll  be  done  to  a  crisp  in  three  weeks ! " 

"  I  know  it " — Stevens  had  not  looked  around — 
18 


'And    if   I  don't  deliver  the  goods  . 
it's  because  my  name  ain't  Sadie 
Morrison.'  " 


The  Hegira 


"  that's  what  she  needs,  to  judge  from  her  talk.  And 
she'll  have  Thompson  jumpin'  through  doughnuts  in 
less'n  three  weeks;  and  that's  what  he  needs.  It's  a 
great  country,  Jimmy — out  there." 

Meantime  Sadie  had  returned  to  Kelsey's.  Grace 
and  Frances,  her  intimates  among  the  score  of  girls  em- 
ployed in  No.  I,  rejoiced  with  her  in  her  great  luck. 
Later  she  had  supper  there ;  "  the  last,"  she  called  it,  and 
when  afterwards  she  bade  them  good-by  Grace's  blue 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  You'll  write  us  once  in  a  while, 
won't  you,  Sade,  just  to  let  us  know  how  you  like  it?" 
she  pleaded  tremulously.  And  Sadie  gave  them  her 
promise. 

The  hands  of  the  clock  over  the  sidewalk  in  front 
of  Frieberg's  cut-rate  ticket  office  marked  nine-fifty  as 
Sadie,  carrying  an  imitation  leather  suit  case  with  the 
initials  S.  M.  in  black  on  one  end,  came  around  the  cor- 
ner under  the  electric  light  at  the  same  instant  that  a 
man  stepped  out  of  Frieberg's.  Perceiving  the  girl,  who 
had  not  seen  him,  he  quickened  his  pace. 

He  caught  her  by  the  arm.  "  Sadie,  where  you 
going?"  he  asked  sharply,  his  lips  close  to  her  cheek. 
She  gasped,  snatched  away  her  arm,  and  confronted 
him. 

"  Jim  Lacy !  "—her  tones  cut  like  a  knife—"  I  told 
you  I  never  wanted  you  to  speak  to  me  again.  I  told 
you  yesterday  what  I  thought  of  you,  and  I'll  tell  you 
now ;  you're  a  liar  and  a  sneak,  and  if  you  got  the  chance 
I  guess  you'd  be  a  thief " 

Under  the  stinging  lash  of  her  words  he  winced ;  but 
19 


Sadie 

in  his   voice   when   next  he   spoke   was   the  plea  of   a 
child. 

"  Sadie — won't  you  lemme  explain " 

"  Explain  nothing !  "  He  had  made  to  take  her  arm 
again,  but  she  snatched  it  away.  "  You  couldn't  explain 
if  you  talked  all  night.  I  wish  to  God  I'd  found  it  out 
before ;  you  dog,  you !  Now,  Jim  Lacy,  listen  here ;  I'm 
going  to  quit  Kansas  City  to-night.  Probably  I'll  never 
come  back;  but  I  want  you  to  remember  this:  If  you 
try  to  find  me,  and  come  where  I  am  with  any  more  of 
your  lies,  I'll  kill  you!  Do  you  hear?  I'll  kill  you! " 

He  had  shrunk  from  her,  his  eyes  blankly  fixed  upon 
her  face  in  which  burned  all  the  passion  she  was  capable 
of  feeling.  Before  he  could  recover  she  had  run  swiftly 
across  the  street  and  disappeared  within  the  station. 


CHAPTER   III 

BAGDAD 

UPON  the  trembling  bosom  of  the  desert,  Man, 
in  seeming  irony,  had  pinned  a  jewel  of  paste, 
and  called  it  Bagdad. 

To  the  tired  and  dusty  transcontinental  traveler  who 
— as  his  long,  twelve-Pullman  train  came  to  a  grinding 
stop  before  the  squat,  red  station — pressed  his  nose 
against  the  grimy  window,  the  reason  for  the  town's  ex- 
istence was  not  at  once  apparent.  Close — so  close,  in- 
deed, that  were  he  to  extend  a  hand  he  might  almost 
touch  its  dull  fagade — stood  the  station.  Ahead,  reared 
a  round  water  tank;  behind — the  desert.  Off  beyond 
the  station  and  the  tank,  prone  in  the  trembling  glare,  and 
apparently  asleep,  lay  Bagdad.  Its  assault  upon  the  com- 
merce of  the  Southwest  was  indicated  by  the  single  row 
of  low  wooden  structures,  all  possessing  false  fronts  with 
one  exception,  which  faced  the  dusty  stretch  behind  the 
station,  called  by  residents  Main  Street.  Half  a  hundred 
'dobe  houses  lay  scattered  about  like  popcorn  on  a  sheet 
of  dull-gray  paper,  and  an  occasional  goat  was  to  be 
observed,  here  and  there,  nibbling  a  castaway  newspaper 
or  the  gaudy  label  from  a  case  that  once  had  held  an 
assortment  of  vegetables  in  tins. 

In  the  round  water  tank  that  lifted  its  imposing  lines 
21 


Sadie 

to  the  unflecked  turquoise  sky  lay  the  fundamental  reason 
for  the  town's  existence;  but  this  the  average  traveler, 
so  familiar  with  water  as,  perhaps,  to  hold  it  in  con- 
tempt, could  not  appreciate.  An  all-wise  Providence  had, 
deep  down  in  the  sand  beneath  the  long  legs  of  the  tank, 
provided  a  spring  of  never-lacking  quantity.  One  day 
there  had  cut  the  straight  horizon  a  young  man  riding 
a  burro.  He  wore  laced  boots,  canvas  breeches,  and  a 
blue-flannel  shirt,  and  he  was  followed  by  a  scant  caval- 
cade of  transit-bearers  and  chainmen,  accompanied  by  a 
mule  team  trailing  in  its  rear  a  water  wagon.  Quite 
by  accident  the  subterranean  flow  was  discovered,  and  on 
the  blue  print  that  he  made  the  young  man  in  the  laced 
boots  indicated  its  location  by  a  white  cross,  having  pre- 
viously driven  a  stake.  Later  the  route  that  he  and  his 
companions  had  traversed  was  followed  by  the  construc- 
tion gang,  a  motley  concourse,  composed  in  equal  parts 
of  silent-moving  Apaches,  loquacious  Irish,  shifty-eyed 
Italians,  and  chop-haired  Hopis.  Under  their  hands  two 
threads  of  steel  were  laid  across  the  sand,  their  ends 
pointing  westward,  ever  westward,  to  the  Sunset  Sea. 
A  pipe  was  sunk  at  the  point  marked  by  the  stake;  the 
flow  was  immediate  and  satisfactory.  In  a  week  the 
tank  was  up,  painted,  and  deserted,  while  another  gang 
ran  a  switch  from  the  main  line  that  ended  at  a  bumper 
erected  in  the  sand  a  hundred  yards  away.  The  red 
station  followed,  and  the  division  superintendent,  recall- 
ing his  Arabian  Nights,  together  with  his  first  run  over 
the  new  stretch  of  track,  gave  to  it  the  name  of  Bagdad. 
After  the  red  station — the  town. 

22 


Bagdad 


In  the  beginning  this  had  consisted  of  half  a  score 
adobe  houses,  low-roofed,  and  beamed  with  cottonwood, 
in  the  depressed,  open,  vestibules  of  which  it  was  the 
habit  of  the  ragged,  grimy  children  of  the  place  to  play 
with  the  lean  and  hungry  goats.  Into  the  East,  where 
the  sheep  ranges  were,  some  word  of  Bagdad's  birth 
had  penetrated,  and  ere  long  the  first  sheepman  came 
and  made  it  his  headquarters.  Fearful,  no  doubt, 
that  by  this  change  of  base  the  adventurer  might  reap 
benefits  denied  themselves  the  others  followed.  Jose 
Fernandez  opened  the  original  saloon;  and  that  same 
night  Jim  Hawley  dealt  the  first  game  of  "  bank  "  in 
Bagdad.  A  roulette  wheel  came  as  a  matter  of  course. 
The  town  began  to  take  thought  of  itself.  A  blond  man 
with  a  staccato  voice  and  a  weak  raustache  came  up 
from  San  Luis  and  opened  a  drug  store.  One  day  a 
dentist  dropped  from  No.  5,  East  bound,  and  for  a  time 
operated  in  a  tent.  Jerry  Rowley's  department  store, 
The  Bon  Marche  sprang  up  overnight.  Given  such 
an  impetus  Bagdad  thrived,  until  at  the  time  with  which 
this  chronicle  is  concerned  it  consisted  of  thirty-two 
wooden  structures — five  of  them  saloons — facing  Main 
Street ;  twice  as  many  "  residences  " — half  'dobe — the 
red  station  with  its  cinder  siding,  and  the  water 
tank. 

The  reason  for  the  Carter  eating  house,  adjoining  the 
station,  was  characteristic  of  the  land  and  of  the  Carter 
System.  One  afternoon  a  cloud  mischievously  burst 
three  miles  to  the  Northeast.  The  resulting  washout  suf- 
ficed to  hold  up  at  Bagdad  all  East-going  trains  for  a 
3  23 


Sadie 

period  of  eighteen  hours.  It  proved  a  "  banner  day  "  for 
Rowley,  proprietor  of  the  Bon  Marche,  so  far,  at  least, 
as  the  sale  of  "  canned  goods  "  was  concerned.  As  the 
last  train  pulled  out  and  crossed  the  hastily  thrown  up 
trestle  of  unbolted  ties  that  a  speedily  assembled  construc- 
tion gang  had  erected  across  the  newly  made  arroyo, 
Rowley  surveyed  his  depleted  stock  and  rubbed  his 
hands. 

"  Couple  o'  more  like  that  there,"  he  is  reported  to 
have  declared  to  Jose,  "  and  I'll  tear  up  here'n  Bagdad 
and  go  back  to  Albykerk." 

But  it  was  not  the  inclination  of  the  Carter  System, 
operating  in  close  connection  with  "  the  line,"  to  permit 
resistlessly  any  encroachment  upon  its  prerogatives.  An 
eating  house  was  forthwith  established.  It  consisted  of 
a  red  wing,  tacked  loosely  to  the  red  station,  and  possess- 
ing two  real  stories,  an  edifice  at  once  effective  and  im- 
posing in  its  simple  dignity.  The  second  floor  was  cut  up 
and  properly  divided  by  partitions  that  did  not  touch  the 
roof — this  for  purposes  of  ventilation — into  six  cham- 
bers, each  equipped  with  an  iron  bed,  one  chair,  and  a 
washstand,  all  for  the  benefit  of  such  weary  wayfarers 
as  might  seek  in  Bagdad,  of  a  night,  the  comforts  of  a 
Carter  home.  The  ground  floor  was  given  over  to  a  semi- 
circular lunch  counter,  supporting  divers  plates  of  choco- 
late cake,  custard  pie,  and  Fresno  fruits,  under  glass 
globes,  and  four  tables,  always  set  and  ready — for  an- 
other washout.  Rowley  was  the  only  man  in  Bagdad 
who  regretted  the  establishment  of  the  institution,  and  it 
is  worthy  of  note  that  after  its  opening  he  was  wont  on 

24 


Bagdad 


occasion,  and  always  with  feeling,  to  refer  to  the  railway 
as  "that  damn  Octopus." 

When  all  was  ready  Stevens,  back  in  Kansas  City, 
sent  a  telegram  to  Billy  Thompson  at  Albuquerque, 
wherein  the  latter  was  ordered  to  proceed  at  once  to 
Bagdad  and  put  things  into  shipshape. 

"  Putting  things  into  shipshape  "  whenever  the  Car- 
ter System  saw  fit  to  add  another  link  to  its  long  chain 
of  desert  eating  houses  was  Billy  Thompson's  work ; 
for  five  years  before  Sadie's  appearance  in  the  town  it 
had  been  his  work,  and  it  promised  to  continue  his  work, 
as  often  he  assured  himself,  until,  like  a  sick  coyote,  he 
laid  him  down  in  the  sand  to  die.  And  yet,  in  his  heart  of 
hearts,  he  would  not  have  had  it  otherwise. 

As  related  to  his  immediate  environment,  Billy 
Thompson  was  an  anomaly.  Whenever  he  chanced  to 
be  standing  in  front  of  the  eating  house  as  one  of  the 
long  overland  trains  drew  up,  such  of  the  passengers  as 
glimpsed  him  felt  for  him  a  tender  pity  in  their  belief 
that  he  was  a  specimen  of  Eastern  gentle  birth  fated  to 
dwell  on  the  edge  of  things  for  the  good  of  his  lungs. 
For  Billy  looked  to  be  just  that.  His  thirty-two  years 
sat  lightly  upon  him;  on  one  or  two  occasions  he  had 
claimed  twenty  without  an  argument  having  ensued. 
His  hair,  originally  brown  and  soft,  had  been  bleached 
by  the  desert  sun  and  the  ever-present  alkali  to  a  streaky 
chestnut  tone.  His  eyes  were  blue  and  clear,  far-seeing 
eyes,  like  the  eyes  of  an  Indian  in  all  save  shade,  and  his 
long,  smooth  face  was  strangely  pale  save  for  the  blotches 
of  color  upon  his  cheek  bones.  These  touches  of  car- 

25 


Sadie 

mine  in  his  invalid  face  were  quite  sufficient  to  establish 
him  a  "  lunger  "  and  really  on  his  last  legs,  in  the  minds 
of  the  Pullman  tourists. 

In  his  clothes  especially  was  he  marked  among  his 
neighbors.  His  garments,  all  of  them,  smacked  of  the 
East — Chicago — whence  originally  he  had  come  into  the 
desert,  though  his  young  boyhood  had  been  spent  in  a 
little  Indiana  town,  close  to  the  Illinois  line.  Among  a 
people  overly  given,  perhaps,  to  khaki  pants,  canvas  leg- 
gings, corduroy,  blue-flannel  shirts,  no  coats,  and  high- 
crowned  sombreros  of  Mexican  grass,  Billy  bloomed  in 
all  the  gaudy  beauty  of  a  waxen  cactus  blossom.  In  a 
temperature  of  one  hundred  and  twelve  degrees  Fahren- 
heit he  affected  double-breasted  coats  of  blue  serge,  light 
plaid  trousers,  low  shoes,  polka-dotted  hose,  shirts  that 
for  brilliancy  easily  surpassed  a  Germantown  Navajo 
blanket,  waistcoats  of  startling  patterns,  and  a  multitude 
of  striped  and  speckled  hat  bands,  worn — one  at  a  time, 
it  may  be  said  in  passing — around  the  low  crown  of  his 
stiff-brimmed  "  straw." 

When  Skinny  McGregor  first  came  to  town  he  gravi- 
tated naturally  to  Billy,  and  later  it  was  Skinny  who 
elicited  from  the  former  his  reasons  for  garbing  himself 
in  a  glory  that  was  not  Solomon's. 

One  morning  Billy  had  slouched  into  the  "  Monte," 
Fernandez  "  place,"  to  discover  Skinny  dusting  the  rou- 
lette wheel.  At  the  time  he  was  wearing  certain  garments 
that  he  had  received  the  night  before  on  No.  6,  dead- 
headed through  from  Chicago. 

At  sight  of  his  brilliant  figure  in  the  wide  "'doorway 
26 


Bagdad 


little  Skinny 's  eyes  started  from  his  head  and  he  blinked. 
Then,  dropping  his  chamois  duster,  he  came  nearer  Billy 
and  caressingly  passed  a  hand  over  his  person. 

"  Billy,"  he  asked  in  his  thin,  frail,  little  voice,  "  what 
do  you  flash  rags  like  them  for  out  here,  where  there 
ain't  nobody  to  see  'em  but  a  bunch  of  greasers — where 
there  ain't  any  real  ladies  that  would  appreciate  'em  ?  " 

"  Don't  forget  the  trains,  Skinny,"  Billy  had  replied, 
"  and  that  I've  got  the  dignity  of  the  System  to  uphold. 
I'll  bet  there's  more  capitalists  dropped  off  the  overlands 
here  at  Bagdad  just  from  seein'  me  standing  in  front  of 
the  place,  than  for  any  other  reason.  I'm  the  card 
of  this  town,  and  don't  think  I  don't  know  it.  The 
minute  I  revert  to  jeans  and  soiled  pyjamas  on  the 
street,  like  some  blamed  greaser,  this  metropolis  fades 
from  sight." 

"  I  guess  that's  so,  Billy,"  Skinny  had  agreed  and 
gone  back  to  his  dusting. 

"  How's  the  wheel  to-day  ?  "     Thompson  asked. 

Skinny  winked.  "  'Bout  the  same ;  no  improvement 
perceptible,"  he  replied. 

Billy  pursed  his  lips,  nodded,  and  went  on  up  Main 
Street. 

Indeed  his  present  desert  habitat  was  suggested  in 
but  one  particular  feature  of  his  personal  adornment.  On 
the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  he  wore  a  massive  silver  ring, 
set  with  a  huge  native  turquoise  in  a  fan-shaped  shield. 
To  quote  Skinny,  it  looked  "  like  a  robin's  egg  on  a 
platter,"  but  Billy  was  proud  of  it.  He  had  hired  a 
Navajo  silversmith  to  hammer  it  out  of  a  silver  dollar 

27 


Sadie 

and  had  given  him  the  balance  of  five  dollars  for  the 
turquoise  and  his  work. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained  one  day  to  McGregor  as 
he  stood  in  front  of  the  wheel  and  idly  shot  the  little 
ball  around  the  rim,  "you  see,  Skinny,  the  reason  I 
sport  the  dog  collar  on  me  is  this:  I  hate  the  damn 
country  and  don't  want  to  be  taken  for  a  native.  That's 
why  I  get  my  clothes  back  in  Chicago.  They're  about 
two  years  overdue  in  Chi.  I  suppose,  but  they're  ten  years 
ahead  of  Bagdad.  They  ain't  through  wearing  spring- 
bottom  pants  here  yet,  you  know.  Now,  wearing  my 
clothes,  it  would  be  reasonable  to  take  me  for  a  tender- 
foot if  I  didn't  carry  a  sign.  That  ring's  the  sign." 
He  held  up  his  thumb  and  studied  the  circlet  in  the 
brilliant  light  admiringly.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  that  ring 
every  tin  horn  that  drifts  down  here  from  the  up-country 
would  take  me  for  one  of  those  rah-rah  boys  back  East 
and  wouldn't  be  able  to  get  a  night's  rest  till  he'd  trimmed 
me.  The  reason  I  wear  it  on  my  thumb  is  because  the 
blamed  Navajo  that  made  it  had  a  third  finger  like  a  dill 
pickle  and  fitted  it  to  his  own  instead  of  mine.  I  hol- 
lered when  he  brought  it  'round,  but  he  wouldn't  change 
it.  Seems  it  has  something  to  do  with  their  religion; 
if  he'd  made  it  smaller  after  it  was  all  done,  one  of  his 
sun  gods  might  have  reared  up  and  soaked  him.  Is  your 
mind  easier,  Skinny  ?  " 

McGregor  coughed  and  confessed  that  it  was. 

It  was  Billy's  frank  custom  to  express,  with  such 
naive  disregard  of  the  conventions,  his  scorn  of  Bag- 
dad, indeed  of  all  the  desert  country  round  about. 

28 


Bagdad 


"  Look  at  it !  "  he  exclaimed  one  day  to  Jerry  Rowley 
as  they  stood  together  in  front  of  the  latter's  emporium. 
"  Look  at  it!  Ain't  it  a  peach?  Say,  this  town's  a  joke. 
Look  at  that  vista ! "  Jerry  wiped  his  bleary  eyes  with 
the  back  of  a  hand  covered  with  a  fell  of  reddish  hair, 
and  stared. 

"  What's  the  matter  of  it  ? "  he  inquired,  steadying 
himself. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  goats  ?  Think  a  live  town'd  let 
goats  own  it?  Think  a  self-respecting  people  would  let 
those  blamed  greasers  keep  a-sitting  on  the  town  site 
like  a  lot  of  bloomin'  paper  weights  ?  You'll  notice  there 
ain't  any  more  ornamenting  the  front  of  the  eating  house. 
Charley  dropped  a  pan  of  boiling  water  on  six  of  'em 
last  Thursday  night  and  they've  been  scarcer  than  hen's 
teeth  ever  since." 

Rowley  scowled.  "  Town  was  all  right  till  the  damn 
Octopus  got  a  strangle  hold  on  it,"  he  grunted. 

"  Never  going  to  forget  that  wash-out,  are  you, 
Jerry?"  Billy  inquired  blandly.  "Fine  for  the  goats 
after  that,  wasn't  it?  Had  all  the  tomato  and  salmon 
cans  they  could  hold,  didn't  they?  Yes,  sir,  this  is  a 
great  town ! " 

Whereupon  Billy  left  Jerry,  dazed  and  spluttering,  in 
front  of  the  Bon  Marche  and  entered  the  Always  Open 
Drug  Store  on  the  corner. 

He  had  in  the  beginning  quitted  Albuquerque  regret- 
fully, with  his  brass-bound  steamer  trunk,  and  each 
report  that  he  made  to  Stevens  thereafter  from  the  new 
station  carried,  subjoined,  a  personal  note  wherein  he 

29 


Sadie 

jeered  blithely  at  the  System  for  having  seen  fit  to  estab- 
lish what  he  called  "  an  ice-cream  stand  on  the  rim  of 
hell."  But  whenever  there  came  a  reply,  as  there  usually 
did,  conveying  a  hint  that  before  long  he  might  expect 
to  receive  a  transfer,  he  would  make  haste  to  write  the 
office  that  things  weren't  going  so  very  well  and  that  he 
"  supposed "  he'd  better  stay  on  a  while  longer.  His 
greatest  cause  for  distress,  however,  lay  in  the  fact  that 
thus  far  all  the  girls  sent  out  to  him  to  assist  in  serving 
the  occasional  washed-out  train  load  speedily  married, 
or  as  speedily  sickened  of  the  desert  and  vamosed. 
Indeed  there  was  but  little  in  Bagdad,  apart  from  certain 
eligible  specimens  of  bewhiskered  masculinity,  to  hold 
the  feminine  interest.  Women,  that  is  to  say,  women 
available  in  matters  of  social  intercourse,  were  not  a 
drug  on  the  local  market,  though  of  the  commoner  or 
garden  variety,  there  was  the  usual  supply. 

Two  days  before  Sadie's  call  at  the  office  of  the 
superintendent,  Stevens  had  received  a  personal  and 
characteristic  letter  from  Billy  in  which  the  latter  said : 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  send  me  another  girl — a  live  one. 
The  last  love-sick  ex-schoolm'am  eloped  with  a  sheep- 
man from  over  East  and  the  cook's  talking  about  going 
on  strike.  See  if  you  can't  find  a  girl  that  just  loves 
hot  weather.  The  glass  out  in  front  has  hovered  around 
one  hundred  and  thirteen  for  the  past  three  weeks,  and 
it's  fine  and  mellow.  Send  one  that's  had  her  troubles 
and  wants  to  forget  the  busy  marts  of  trade  and  the  clang 
of  trolley  cars.  That's  about  the  only  variety  we  haven't 
tried.  I  suppose  trolley  cars  clang,  don't  they?  It's  so 

30 


Bagdad 


long  since  I've  seen  one  I  can't  remember  exactly.  And 
whatever  else  you  do,  send  one  that  runs  when  she  sees 
a  man.  That's  been  mostly  the  trouble  with  the  last 
five,  that  and  the  thermometer.  Girls  down  here  at  the 
edge  of  hell  aren't  what  you'd  call  plentiful,  quite,  and 
every  time  one  appears,  a  suitor  jumps  out  from  behind 
a  cactus  and  tries  to  annex  her.  Send  a  girl  with  a 
frosty  face  and  an  icy  mitt  that  hates  men — that  is,  the 
breed  of  men  that  trail  down  here.  One  that  can  draw 
herself  to  her  full  height  like  Mrs.  Leslie  Carter  and 
say  '  Sir ! '  so  contemptuous  that  the  guy  in  front  all 
crinkles  up  like  a  piece  of  rawhide  in  the  sun.  That's 
the  kind ! " 

And  so  it  was  that  on  the  morning  after  Sadie's  call 
upon  him,  Stevens  sent  this  wire  to  Thompson : 

"A  human  iceberg  that  is  also  a  willing  worker  left 
on  No.  8  last  night.  Name  is  Sadie  Morrison.  Look 
out  for  her  Monday." 

And  so  it  was  that  as  the  brazen  sun  swung  low  in 
the  cloudless  sky  on  the  following  Monday  noon,  Billy 
Thompson  in  a  fresh  pair  of  plaid  flannel  trousers,  his 
double-breasted  blue-serge  coat  buttoned  closely  about  his 
slight  figure,  and  wearing  around  his  hat  crown  the 
most  brilliant  band  in  all  his  large  collection,  awaited 
Sadie's  coming,  under  the  thermometer,  in  front  of  the 
red  eating  house,  with  Charley,  the  white-capped  cook, 
and  Harry  Robinson,  the  operator,  serving  as  buttresses 
on  either  side. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  ADVENT  OF   SADIE 

SADIE'S  coming  into  the  desert  was  heralded  by  no 
fanfare  of  trumpets.  Indeed,  as  the  long  train 
came  to  a  standstill  before  the  red  station  and  each  mem- 
ber of  the  self-constituted  committee  of  welcome  turned 
his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  standard  Pullmans  ahead, 
they  were  of  the  unanimous  opinion  that  an  error  had 
been  made  by  Stevens.  However,  they  saw  a  tin-bound, 
round-top  trunk  lowered  to  the  cinder  siding  from  the 
wide  door  of  the  baggage  car  and  that  same  instant  Sadie 
herself  descended  from  the  rear  platform  of  the  last 
"  tourist  sleeper."  She  was  preceded  by  a  ruddy-faced 
individual  wearing  a  drooping  mustache  and  a  broad 
brimmed  Stetson,  who  set  her  imitation  leather  suit  case 
on  the  siding,  and  helped  her  down.  Then  he  lifted  the 
case  for  her,  and  as  she  took  it,  smiling  her  gratitude,  he 
swept  off  his  hat,  with  a  gesture  of  marked  grandeur,  and 
bowed.  Not  one  of  the  committee  had  witnessed  the 
little  scene,  and  as  the  train  pulled  out  Sadie  stood  there 
doubtfully.  Turning,  Thompson  saw  her  and  came  for- 
ward rapidly. 

"Is  this  Miss  Morrison?"  he  inquired. 

"  Yes,   I'm   Sadie   Morrison.     I   guess    Mr.    Stevens 
wired,  didn't  he?" 

32 


The  Advent  of  Sadie 


At  a  glance  the  manager  had  noted  every  detail  of 
her  appearance,  from  her  pompadour  to  the  toes  of  her 
russet  shoes. 

The  cook  and  Robinson  had  hung  back,  but  now  they 
approached  together  and  Robinson  asked  if  that  were 
Sadie's  trunk  which  stood  on  one  end  a  little  way  up  the 
siding.  At  her  answer  that  it  was  they  laid  violent 
hands  upon  it  and  carried  it  forward  between  them. 

"  My,  it's  a  long  way  out  here,  ain't  it  ?  "  exclaimed 
Sadie  as  Thompson  led  the  way  into  the  lunch  room. 

"  It  is  something  of  a  jaunt,"  he  replied.  "  I  sup- 
pose you  want  to  go  right  up  to  your  room,  don't  you? 
I'll  show  it  to  you." 

He  started  to  ascend  the  narrow  stairs  behind  the 
counter. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  she  called  to  him ;  "  I'll  help  carry 
my  trunk  up." 

"  You !  "  Billy  exploded. 

"  Sure,"  she  replied. 

"  You  won't  do  anything  of  the  sort,"  he  declared. 
"  Charley  and  Robinson  want  to.  Let  'em.  It'll  do  'em 
good." 

"  Oh,  all  right,  if  you  say  so,"  Sadie  acquiesced  as 
she  followed  Billy  up  the  stairs. 

In  her  room  she  glanced  about  her;  then  she  looked 
at  the  young  man  and  smiled. 

"  This  ain't  a  palace,  you  know,"  he  declared  in- 
tuitively. 

"  I'm  glad  it  ain't,"  was  her  reply ;  "  I  ain't  used  to 
palaces." 

33 


Sadie 

"  You'll  find  water  in  the  pitcher,"  he  informed  her, 
"  and  if  you  want  any  more  nails  to  hang  your  things 
on,  tell  Charley — he's  the  cook — and  he'll  drive  'em 
for  you.  Here's  your  trunk." 

"  Set  it  over  there,  will  you,  by  the  wash-stand  ?  " 
She  indicated  with  a  gesture  the  desired  location. 

Billy  formally  introduced  the  cook  and  the  operator 
then  and  they  both  nodded,  grinning. 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,"  Sadie  said,  and  held  out  her 
hand,  first  to  Charley,  then  to  Robinson. 

"  Come  down  when  you  get  washed  up,"  Billy  said, 
"and  I'll  try  to  elucidate  the  job  that's  cut  out  for  you 
in  this  seething  maelstrom  of  metropolitan  life.  You 
won't  get  thin  holding  it  down,  I  guess." 

So  saying  he  left  her,  following  in  the  wake  of  the 
cook. 

In  the  lunch  room  below  the  three  men  gazed  into 
one  another's  faces,  but  it  was  Billy  who  spoke  as  he 
slowly  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"  Did  you  see  her  ?  "  he  inquired  significantly.  "  Did 
you  see  her  ?  Say  " — he  bent  the  end  of  his  cigarette — 
"  this  caravanserie's  going  to  sit  up  and  take  notice  from 
now  on." 

"Ain't  she  a  peach  ? "  murmured  Robinson,  more, 
however,  as  a  declaration  than  as  an  interrogation. 

"  Some,"  agreed  the  cook  as  he  vanished  through 
the  narrow  doorway  under  the  stairs  into  what  Billy 
was  wont  to  call  his  kennel.  Robinson  without  further 
comment  returned  to  his  office  where  for  two  hours  he 
sat  staring  through  the  little  panes  of  his  bow  window, 

34 


The  Advent  of  Sadie 


and  Billy  was  left  alone  on  the  siding  to  trim  his  finger 
nails. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  little  door  under  the  stairs  was 
pushed  back  and  the  head  of  the  cook  appeared. 

"  Sssssss !  "  he  hissed.  Thompson  turned.  Charley 
wriggled  a  crooked  forefinger.  "  Come  on  out  here," 
he  whispered.  Billy  closed  his  knife  and  tiptoed  noise- 
lessly across  the  lunch-room  floor. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  inquired  under  his  breath. 

Charley  made  no  reply  and  Thompson  followed  him 
into  the  kitchen. 

"  Listen !  "     The  cook  lifted  a  silencing  hand. 

Above,  Sadie  was  singing,  low,  to  herself,  in  a  voice 
possessing  many  velvety  baritone  qualities. 

"  Listen,  ain't  it  great !  "  whispered  the  cook,  and 
Billy  Thompson  grinned. 

The  song  that  she  was  singing  seemed  to  begin: 

"  He  don't  belong  to  the  re-gu-lars, 

He's  just  a  volunteer; 
Dum-di-diddledy-dum-di-dum, 
But  some  one  holds  him  dear," 

and  as  she  sang  their  heads  wagged  in  time  to  the  air. 

Presently  the  singing  ceased  and  Billy  returned  to 
the  lunch  room,  where,  seating  himself  at  one  of  the 
tables  by  a  window,  he  tried  to  interest  himself  in  a 
week-old-copy  of  the  San  Francisco  Examiner. 

From  above  came  the  sound  of  Sadie's  footfalls  as 
she  moved  about  the  little,  bare  room,  hanging  her  things 
on  the  nails  driven  along  the  wall  at  the  foot  of  the 

35 


Sadie 

white,  iron  bed.  The  one  window  of  the  room  looked 
out  upon  Main  Street.  She  saw  the  deep  ruts  made  by 
the  great  borax  wagons  that  thrice  weekly  passed  through 
the  town  on  the  way  to  San  Luis,  where  the  refinery 
was.  In  the  distance  she  heard  the  tinkle  of  a  bell  and 
listened.  Down  the  dusty  way  such  an  outfit  was 
coming  now.  The  bell  hung  at  the  neck  of  the  off  lead 
mule.  She  counted  the  animals;  there  were  twenty  of 
them,  and  on  the  back  of  a  wheeler  sat  a  man,  one  leg 
thrown  over  the  collar,  as  women  are  wont  to  ride. 
In  his  hands  he  clutched  a  single  rein,  that,  passing  under 
the  bridles  of  every  animal,  was  caught  at  the  bit  of 
the  leader  with  the  bell.  Above  the  driver  towered  the 
huge  wagon,  and  on  behind  trailed  the  green  water  tank. 
The  tank  appeared  familiar  to  Sadie ;  she  recalled  having 
many  times  seen  others  like  it  in  the  streets  of  Kansas 
City.  And  she  wondered  to  what  use  oil  in  such  quan- 
tities could  be  put  in  the  desert !  The  borax  outfit  passed ; 
again  in  the  distance  she  heard  the  tinkle  of  the  bell, 
fainter  and  fainter,  on  the  dust-shot  air. 

Across  the  street  the  wavy  glass  in  the  window  of 
Rowley's  Bon  Marche  glared  in  the  dazzling  light.  An 
Indian  rode  up  to  the  paling  and  dismounted  from  his 
burro;  immediately  the  little  animal  lay  down  in  the 
sand,  as  if  tired;  and  she  saw  the  rider  disappear 
through  the  open  doorway  of  the  store.  Turning  from 
the  window  then,  she  gave  a  last  glance  about  her,  smiled, 
and  descended  the  stairs  into  the  lunch  room. 

Billy  tossed  aside  his  paper  and  pushing  forth  a 
chair  said: 

36 


The  Advent  of  Sadie 


"  Sit  down  and  I'll  try  to  tell  you  what  you're  up 
against." 

She  seated  herself  opposite  him,  her  elbows  on  the 
table,  her  chin  on  the  little  platform  her  clasped  hands 
made. 

"  Fire  away,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place  this  is  the  only  hotel  in 
town.  There's  a  few  that  have  their  meals  here  off  and 
on,  but  mostly  we  catch  the  up-country  prospectors  and 
the  sheepmen  from  over  East.  We  don't  have  anybody 
for  all  night  often.  Generally  the  train  people  are  fed 
forty  miles  West  of  here.  It's  only  when  something  hap- 
pens on  the  line  like  a  freight  wreck,  or  a  washout,  or 
a  sand  storm  that  we  have  a  rush.  This  is  a  sort  of 
emergency  station,  you  know.  Sometimes  we  have  to 
hustle,  but  ordinarily  we  loaf.  Of  course,  there's  the 
place  to  take  care  of,  apart  from  the  dining  room ;  you'll 
be  the  housekeeper,  like.  See?  You  don't  need  to  be 
skairt;  the  work  won't  kill  you.  Now  I'll  show  you 
where  the  things  are." 

Her  first  lesson  in  the  proper  conduct  of  a  Carter 
eating  house  of  the  third  class  lasted  about  an  hour, 
during  which  the  manager  made  out  for  her  a  revised 
price  list  of  the  "  dairy  dishes,"  served  from  the  counter, 
as  distinct  from  the  "  regular  meals."  Sadie  made  a 
mental  comparison  of  the  prices  charged  here  in  the 
desert  and  in  Kelsey's,  and  remarked  that  she  had  never 
heard  of  doughnuts  being  sold  "  three  for  five  "  before. 

"  If  the  System  wasn't  operated  in  such  close  con- 
nection with  the  line,"  Thompson  told  her,  "  we  couldn't 

37 


Sadie 

do  it.  You  see  all  the  bulk  stuff  we  use  comes  through 
from  Kansas  City  or  'Frisco,  dead-head.  The  hungry 
travelin'  public  gets  the  benefit,  that's  all.  We've  been 
sorter  expecting  a  hotel  to  be  opened  here  for  the  past 
year.  Fellow  by  the  name  of  Tunnison  that  has  The 
Palace  up  at  Cottonwood  was  down  looking  the  ground 
over,  but  his  wife  died  a  couple  of  weeks  later  and  he 
gigged.  There'll  be  one  some  day,  though,  when  the 
gold  begins  to  attract  folks  to  the  Valley  up  North." 

The  System,  as  the  manager  explained  it,  was  quite 
simple  to  Sadie  and  she  asked  but  few  questions. 

"  I  guess  you  won't  have  any  trouble,"  Thompson 
declared.  "  What  the  devil's  that !  "  he  exclaimed  with 
his  next  breath.  A  great  clamor  and  a  multitude  of 
clashing  cries  were  borne  to  them  where  they  stood. 
Thompson  ran  forth  into  the  sun  glare  without  his  hat. 

"  Come  out  here ! "  Sadie  heard  his  call  and  joined 
him  at  the  end  of  the  red  station.  "  That'll  show  you 
how  the  noble  red  man  has  fallen,"  he  indicated,  laughing. 

What  she  beheld  caused  all  the  sympathy  she  was 
capable  of  feeling  to  beat  big  in  her  heart.  On  his  burro, 
yelling  in  drunken  scorn  of  the  pitiless  sun  that  shone 
relentlessly  down  upon  his  tousled  head,  swayed  the 
Indian  that  an  hour  before  she  had  seen  quietly  enter 
the  Bon  Marche.  A  score  of  little  Mexicans  were  goad- 
ing animal  and  rider  almost  to  a  frenzy,  the  while  in 
front  of  his  emporium  stood  Rowley  himself,  holding  his 
fat  sides  in  laughter. 

Upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment  Sadie  acted.  Almost 
before  Thompson  realized  her  intent  she  had  plunged 

38 


The  Advent  of  Sadie 


fearlessly  into  the  midst  of  the  howling,  jeering  mob  of 
ragged  childhood  and  was  cuffing  the  youngsters  right 
and  left. 

In  frightened  amazement  they  shrank  before  her  on- 
slaught, and  in  the  new  excitement  of  the  moment  the 
Indian's  knowing  burro  carried  his  drunken  master  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  further  baiting. 

At  Sadie's  sudden  appearance  upon  the  scene  of  his 
delight  Rowley's  face  underwent  a  series  of  illuminating 
changes;  wonder  gave  way  to  anger  which  in  turn  was 
displaced  by  an  expression  of  dubious  admiration.  The 
effect  upon  Skinny  McGregor,  who  witnessed  the  little 
drama  from  the  doorway  of  the  Always  Open  Drug  Store, 
was  quite  different.  Perceiving  at  once  the  girl's  intent, 
a  regard  for  the  fundamental  decencies  latent  in  him 
came  to  the  surface,  and  squatting  with  his  hands  on 
his  knees  he  cried  out  to  Sansome,  the  druggist: 

"  By  golly,  that  dame's  on  the  level !  But  she's  a 
tenderfoot.  Gawd,  what  a  tenderfoot !  " 

"  Who'n  thunder  is  she  ?  "  Sansome  asked. 

"  I  dunno,"  little  Skinny  replied,  "  but  I  guess  she's 
the  new  girl  over't  the  eating  house.  Thompson  said 
he  expected  one  to-day." 

Sadie,  having  accomplished  her  self-appointed  task, 
joined  the  manager  where  she  had  left  him,  at  the 
end  of  the  station,  and  from  which  point  he  had  not 
moved. 

"  That  was  a  good  job,"  was  all  he  said  as  he  per- 
mitted his  eyes  to  rest  admiringly,  for  a  moment,  upon 
her  flushed  face. 

4  39 


Sadie 

She  smiled.  "  The  miserable  brats ! "  she  mut- 
tered. "  I  thought  there  was  a  law  against  selling  it  to 
Indians." 

Thompson  regarded  her  with  a  new  and  curious 
interest. 

"  I  guess  there  is,"  was  his  dry  reply,  "  but  it  ain't 
got  out  here  yet.  Besides,  the  cigar  sign  wasn't  full  of 
booze,  likely." 

"  Wasn't !  "    Sadie  stared  at  him. 

Thompson  shook  his  head.  "  More  apt  to  have  been 
Stomach  Bitters  or  something  like  that." 

He  had  nothing  further  to  say  to  her  just  then,  but  it 
was  clear  to  him  where  his  duty  lay.  She  must  be  in- 
structed in  the  ways  of  her  adopted  land  if  she  would 
live  at  peace  with  the  world  about  her,  he  decided.  But 
how  to  make  the  matter  clear  to  her,  he  was  at  a  loss 
to  know. 

Nor  did  she  refer  to  the  incident  again  that  after- 
noon. Indeed,  on  her  return  to  the  eating  house,  she 
immediately  joined  the  cook  in  the  kitchen  and  for  the 
first  time  in  three  weeks  Thompson,  Skinny  McGregor, 
Robinson,  and  Sansome  the  druggist,  comprising  the 
four  "  regular  boarders,"  were  "  decently  served,"  as 
Billy  observed  when  Sadie  went  back  into  the  kitchen 
for  a  second  order  of  dessert. 

"  Think  you're  going  to  like  it  out  here  ?  "  Charley 
the  cook  inquired,  as  he  cleared  a  place  for  her  at  one 
end  of  the  serving  table. 

"Sure,  I'm  going  to  like  it,"  she  replied.  "It's 
different." 

40 


The  Advent  of  Sadie 


"  Think  you  can  stand  the  heat  ? "  he  pursued 
solicitously. 

"  I  can  stand  anything,"  she  informed  him  decisively. 
"Anything  but  fools  and — most  women." 

Whereat  Charley  grinned,  and  agreed,  sententiously, 
regarding  her  from  the  end  of  an  eye : 

"  So  c'n  I." 


CHAPTER   V 

BILLY  THOMPSON   DISSERTATES 

BILLY  THOMPSON  and  the  cook  sat  just  outside 
the  door  of  the  lunch  room,  on  chairs  tilted  back 
against  the  red  wall,  watching  the  sunset  glow  in  the 
Western  sky.  The  evening  breeze  was  rising.  Off  to  the 
East  the  purple  shadows  were  lengthening.  The  cacti, 
lifting  their  imploring  fingers  to  the  unflecked  dome, 
were  growing  less  and  less  distinct  against  the  deepen- 
ing background  of  the  sand. 

"  Do  you  think  she'll  make  good  ?  "  Charley  inquired, 
apropos  of  nothing,  but  with  obvious  reference  to  Sadie. 

"  Who?  Her?  "  Billy  replied.  "  Can't  tell  yet.  She 
ain't  been  here  long  enough.  Depends  upon  how  she 
takes  to  the  country.  Funny  about  the  women  from  back 
East — Kansas  City  or  Chicago — when  they  hit  these  parts. 
Seems  to  sorter  daze  'em.  They  get  loco." 

"  I've  noticed  it,"  agreed  Charley  dryly. 

"  They'll  be  all  right  for  a  while,"  Thompson  con- 
tinued, "  then  all  of  a  sudden  they  kick  up.  Might  as 
well  let  'em  slide  then.  Can't  ever  break  'em  to  harness 
again.  Mebbe  it's  the  heat;  I  don't  know." 

"  I  was  asking  her  this  afternoon  if  she  thought  she 
could  stand  it,"  Charley  put  in. 

"What'd  she  say?" 

42 


Billy  Thompson  Dissertates 

"  Said  she  guessed  she  could." 

"  Well,  Kansas  City  ain't  what  you'd  call  arctic  in 
the  summer,"  Billy  observed. 

"  She'll  be  getting  married  just  about  the  time  she's 
well  broke  in,"  was  the  gloomy  prophecy  of  the  cook. 

Billy  twisted  in  his  chair.  "Don't  talk  about  it," 
he  pleaded. 

Charley  rose  at  that  and  yawned.  "  Well,"  he 
drawled,  "  guess  I'll  take  a  little  walk  over  town." 

For  a  space  Billy  Thompson  stared  at  the  bow  on  one 
of  his  low  shoes.  It  was  at  such  moments  as  now,  when 
the  shadows  of  evening  thickened  around  him,  that  a 
longing  for  the  soil  "  back  East "  crept  into  his  heart. 
For  ten  years  the  desert  had  been  his  home ;  he  knew  the 
changing  land  in  all  its  multitude  of  moods;  he  knew 
how  little  he  was  in  it;  how  profitless  the  work  that  he 
was  doing.  Whenever  a  prospector  came  down  from  the 
North  with  some  wild  tale  of  the  Eldorado  claim  that 
he  had  located,  Billy  Thompson  was  impelled,  for  the 
little  moment,  to  go  forth  himself  in  quest  of  the  gold  that 
he  knew  lay,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  beneath  his 
hand.  Confident,  however,  that  sooner  or  later  a  "  rush  " 
to  the  desert  fields  would  occur  he  held  back,  promising 
himself  that  when  it  should  it  would  find  him  ready. 
In  a  word  the  laziness  of  the  life  he  had  led  so  long,  the 
laziness  of  the  desert  dozing  round  about  him,  held  him 
to  his  comfortable,  if  narrow,  niche  in  the  Carter  System. 

His  gloomy  reverie  was  broken  suddenly  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  Sadie  in  the  doorway. 

"  Come  out  and  sit  down  on  the  porch,"  he  invited. 
43 


Sadie 

"  I  thought  Charley  was  here,"  she  replied,  sinking 
upon  the  chair  the  cook  had  vacated,  and  smoothing  out 
her  white  duck  skirt. 

"  He  just  left,"  he  informed  her ;  "  he  heard  the  wheel 
over  at  the  '  Monte '  and  couldn't  resist.  That's  the 
trouble  with  Charley,"  he  added ;  "  he  knows  the  wheel 
down  there's  on  the  bum  and  he's  been  bucking  it  all 
summer  trying  to  find  out  what  ails  it." 

"  What  kind  of  a  wheel  is  it  ?  "  Sadie  inquired  in- 
genuously. 

Billy  regarded  her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
"  What  kind  of  a  wheel !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  A  roulette 
wheel;  did  you  think  I  meant  a  little  girl's  tricycle 
wheel?" 

"  I  didn't  know,"  was  the  apologetic  response.  Then : 
"  Is  it  really  on  the  bum  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Rather."  Billy  flecked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette 
and  leaned  back  into  his  chair,  swinging  his  feet. 
"  Skinny  McGregor — he's  the  little  lad  that  operates  it — 
put  me  wise  two  months  ago.  The  least  pressure  at  a 
certain  point  on  the  rim  springs  it  proper." 

Sadie's  sole  desire  at  the  moment  was  to  facilitate 
conversation,  so  she  asked  naively :  "  Why  don't  they 
get  it  fixed  if  it's  bu'sted?" 

"  That's  what  I  wanted  to  know,"  Billy  replied.  "  I 
asked  Skinny  once  and  he  'lowed  old  Fernandez — that's 
the  proprietor — said  it  made  good,  enough  to  suit  him, 
and  as  long  as  Skinny  knew  how  to  operate  it  right 
he  didn't  see  the  use  of  laying  out  three  or  four  hundred 
for  a  new  one.  Thought  I  might  as  well  tell  you  " — he 

44 


Billy  Thompson  Dissertates 

chuckled — "  in  case  you  should  ever  feel  like  going 
against  it  yourself." 

Sadie  smiled.  "  I'm  much  obliged,"  she  said,  "  but 
I  guess  that  ain't  for  mine." 

A  period  of  silence  ensued  during  which  Billy  rolled  a 
fresh  cigarette  and  Sadie  gazed  at  the  purpling  sky. 

"  That  was  a  pretty  nervy  thing  you  did  this  after- 
noon," he  declared  irrelevantly. 

"What?"  she  asked. 

"  Swatting  those  greaser  kids  that  were  pestering  the 
cigar  sign." 

"  Oh !  "  She  had  hoped  he  would  not  refer  to  the 
incident. 

"  Only  it's  a  little  unusual  out  here  for  white  folks 
to  rush  to  the  assistance  of  the  noble  red  man,  drunk 
or  sober — the  red  man  I  mean — like  you  did.  You  see, 
out  here  an  Indian  is  just  an  Indian  as  long  as  he's  on 
top  of  the  ground ;  when  he's  under,  he's  a  good  Indian. 
Just  thought  I'd  put  you  wise.  Not  that  it  makes  any 
difference,  you  know,  only  we  have  to  conform  to  the 
habits  of  the  natives  as  much  as  possible.  It  prevents 
trouble,  you  see.  I  guess  Stevens  didn't  tell  you  much 
about  Bagdad,  did  he?"  he  added. 

The  color  had  come  into  Sadie's  face,  but  in  the 
lessening  light  he  could  not  perceive  it. 

"  He  didn't  have  time  to  tell  me  much,"  she  confessed. 
"  I  came  right  off  the  bat." 

"  Well,  it  ain't  so  bad,  as  these  desert  towns  go," 
Billy  ran  on. 

Sadie  turned  toward  him.  "  Who  was  that  old  fat 
45 


Sadie 

fellow  that  laughed  so  hard  this  afternoon  ? "  she  in- 
quired eagerly.  "  I  could  have  hit  him !  " 

"  Him  ?  Oh,  that  was  Jerry  Rowley.  He's  the  sole 
owner  and  proprietor  of  the  Bon  Marche,  next  to  the 
Always  Open,  over  on  Main  Street.  They  call  it  the  Bun 
March  around  here.  Jerry's  all  right  in  his  way.  If  you 
were  to  ask  Skinny  McGregor  about  him  he'd  tell  you 
different,  but  that's  because  Jerry  made  a  pass  to  plug 
Skinny  one  night  in  the  *  Monte/  couple  of  months  ago. 
Trouble  with  Rowley  is,  he's  spent  the  greater  part  of 
his  life  cultivating  a  taste  for  red-eye  and  for  the  last 
few  years  he's  been  harvesting  the  crop.  If  you  ever 
get  a  whiff  of  something  that  you  can't  quite  identify, 
but  that  kind  of  reminds  you  of  a  chafing  dish — that's 
Jerry. 

Sadie  laughed. 

"  Whenever  he  smokes  he  lights  up  with  a  burn- 
ing glass;  he's  afraid  to  hold  a  match  so  close  to  his 
breath." 

"  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  He  didn't  grow  out 
here,  did  he  ?  "  she  asked. 

Billy  drew  a  mouthful  of  smoke  into  his  leathern 
lungs  and  exhaled  it  in  two  funnel-shaped  spirals  through 
dilated  nostrils. 

"  Him  ?  No ;  he  moved  in.  Came  from  New  Mexico 
originally.  He's  been  an  Indian  trader  ever  since  he 
was  a  kid.  Half  of  the  old  junk  you  see  back  East  that 
looks  Southwesterny  Jerry  gathered  in.  He  can  tell  a 
genuine  Hopi  prayer  stick  from  an  imitation  with  his 
eyes  shut  and  both  hands  tied  behind  him.  You  ought 

46 


Billy  Thompson  Dissertates 

to  hear  him  reminisce  about  his  troubles  with  the  Yaquis 
down  in  Sonora.  According  to  him  he  cleansed  the 
whole  province  and  they've  been  plowing  up  shin  bones, 
and  ears,  and  fingers,  and  things  that  he  scattered,  ever 
since.  He's  got  another  story  about  how  he  broke  a 
strike  on  the  Southern  Pacific,  and  licked,  single-handed, 
three  or  four  hunderd  Apaches  and  dagoes,  that's  a 
pretty  parlor  anecdote — only  it's  a  lie.  The  man  who 
really  did  it  died  down  in  San  Luis  eight  years  ago  and 
since  then  Jerry's  been  telling  the  story  on  himself.  When 
the  tourists  with  the  green  sun  specs  began  to  stop  off 
here  and  do  a  little  bartering  with  the  Indians  on  their 
own  account,  Jerry  tried  to  get  a  friend  of  his  back  in 
Nebraska  to  introduce  a  bill  in  Congress  prohibiting  all 
trading  with  reservation  Indians  except  by  licensed 
traders.  He  used  to  cry  when  he  got  started  talking 
about  the  mean  advantage  the  tourists  were  taking  of 
the  noble  red  man's  childish  innocence.  Fact  is,  Jerry 
saw  that  the  cigar  signs  were  getting  wise  and  it  dis- 
turbed him.  By  and  by  the  real  intrinsic  value  of  his 
customary  articles  of  barter — beads,  wooden  dumb-bells, 
little  advertising  mirrors,  and  canned  salmon  that  re- 
quired all  the  disinfectants  in  the  territory  to  change  its 
character — began  to  percolate  the  coagulated  gray  matter 
of  the  aborigines.  When  times  got  so  rotten  that  Jerry 
couldn't  trade  a  two-ounce  box  of  musk-scented  vase- 
line for  a  Navajo  blanket  worth  three  hundred,  American, 
he  went  out  of  business.  And  every  time  he  takes  on 
a  load  now  he  starts  off  sobbing  about  the  commercial 
degradation  of  the  native  tribes,  and  the  degeneration 

47 


Sadie 

of  their  once  artistic  handicrafts.  Jerry's  a  sort  of  a 
shine ;  he  really  ought  to  have  passed  in  his  checks  before 
the  first  railroad  tapped  this  country." 

"  I  see,"  murmured  Sadie ;  but  she  did  not,  quite. 

"  Since  then,"  Billy  pursued,  "  he's  been  running  the 
Bun  March  and  doing  what  trading  comes  his  way  on  the 
side.  His  house  is  right  over  there ;  there's  usually  four 
or  five  goats  out  in  front.  He's  got  a  Mexican  woman 
taking  care  of  things  for  him." 

"  He  isn't  married  then,"  observer  Sadie  casually. 

Billy  turned,  and  for  an  instant  studied  her  profile 
in  the  waning  light. 

"  No,  he  ain't  married,"  he  replied  dryly.  "  I  heard 
once  that  he  proposed  to  a  squaw  somewhere  up  around 
Cottonwood,  but  she  told  him  she  wouldn't  be  his  unless 
he  gave  her  the  eight  dollars  he'd  swindled  her  fourth 
husband  out  of  on  a  trade  for  a  beaded  shirt.  Jerry,  it 
appears,  couldn't  quite  see  it  that  way,  so  the  affair  fell 
through." 

"  Wasn't  she  worth  eight  dollars  ?  "  murmured  Sadie 
wonderingly. 

"  Not  to  Jerry,  I  guess,"  Billy  replied. 

"  But  most  of  the  men  out  here  are  married,  aren't 
they  ?  "  she  urged  blandly. 

"  Some  of  'em  are,"  was  Billy's  sour  response.  He 
was  conscious  that  the  conversation  was  approaching 
dangerous  ground.  "  The  rest  would  be,  maybe,  if 
there  were  enough  of  the  opposite  sex  to  go  round. 
Say !  "  he  exploded,  "  you  haven't  got  the  marrying  idea 
in  your  head  this  quick,  have  you  ?  " 

48   " 


Billy  Thompson  Dissertates 

She  laughed.  "  Don't  lose  any  sleep  about  me,"  she 
replied. 

"  That's  what  happened  to  all  the  others,  you  know," 
he  went  on,  "  and  I  was  getting  desperate.  Just  about  the 
time  a  girl  would  begin  to  feel  at  home  around  the  place, 
some  wild-eyed  sheepman  or  other,  in  khaki  pants  and 
a  blue  shirt,  would  hop  out  from  behind  a  Spanish 
bayonet  and  carry  her  off.  Charley  and  I've  got  lame 
arms  from  throwing  rice !  " 

"  You  won't  have  to  throw  any  at  me,"  Sadie  assured 
him. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you'd  like  to  promise  that,  would 
you  ? "  There  was  a  note  of  eager  plea  in  his  voice 
and  he  leaned  over  toward  her  so  far  that  she  felt  his 
breath  on  her  cheek. 

"  I'd  just  as  soon,  if  it  would  make  you  feel  any 
easier,"  she  told  him. 

"  Well,  it  would !  "  he  declared. 

"  All  right  then ;  I  promise."  She  laughed.  As  for 
Billy  Thompson  he  pulled  a  deep  breath  and  sighed  con- 
tentedly. 

"  I've  never  been  able  to  account  for  it,"  he  ran  on. 
"  Mostly,  these  fellows  out  here  are  a  lot  of  dubs.  What 
a  girl  can  discover  that's  romantic  in  living  in  a  'dobe, 
and  doing  the  washing  for  a  set  of  whiskers  with  a  man 
behind  'em  that  eats  with  his  knife,  I  can't  see.  The 
funny  part  of  it  is,  that  every  one  of  'em  that's  had  a  shot 
at  it  down  here  could  have  found  better  picking  back 
where  she  came  from." 

"  Maybe  it's  in  the  air,"  Sadie  suggested. 
49 


Sadie 

"  I  guess  it  must  be,"  Billy  agreed  dubiously.  "  If 
things  were  like  they  used  to  be  it  wouldn't  be  so  hard 
to  explain.  If  the  guys  round  here  wore  velvet  pants, 
and  elk-tooth  buttons,  and  buckskin  shirts  with  fringe  on 
'em,  and  let  their  manes  grow  long  and  glossy  like  the 
old  Indian  doctor  that  I  used  to  see  back  in  my  home  town 
in  Indiana,  with  Kickapoo  medicine  outfits,  why,  there'd 
be  some  reason  for  it.  But  if  you  can  indicate  to  me  any- 
thing romantic,  and  appealing  to  the  normal  human 
emotions,  in  a  man  who  wears  a  straw  hat  like  the  lean- 
ing tower  of  Pisa,  and  a  pyjama  coat  and  linen  pants, 
and  comes  barefoot  into  town  for  his  bacon  and  beans 
straddling  a  burro  that  wouldn't  weigh  in  sixty-five 
pounds  on  the  hoof,  I  wish  you  would.  And  as  for  the 
old  picturesque  life  with  guns  barking  all  night,  and 
sheriffs  making  heroes  of  themselves  so  fast  they  don't 
have  time  to  eat  at  a  table — it's  gone,  all  gone.  Once 
in  a  while  a  cow-puncher  or  a  sheep  trailer  like  Reddy 
Lawton,  or  maybe  a  bunch  of  'em  come  in  and  imagine 
they've  been  elected  absorbing  secretaries  of  the  liquor 
consumers'  league ;  and  after  trying  to  drown  themselves 
in  cocktails  composed  of  equal  parts  of  fusel  oil  and  sul- 
phuric acid  served  in  a  lemonade  glass,  take  a  shot  or 
two,  in  passing,  at  the  jars  of  colored  water  in  the  win- 
dow of  the  Always  Open  Drug  Store ;  or  maybe  a  posse 
of  the  Protective  Association  tears  through  town  on  the 
trail  of  a  horse  thief;  or  a  greaser  gets  killed  as  the 
result  of  the  accidental  discharge  of  a  gun  in  the  hands 
of  a  white  man;  or  somebody  hits  a  Chinaman  with  a 
hatchet;  or  Jerry  Rowley  sells  half  a  dozen  bottles  of 

50 


Billy  Thompson  Dissertates 

Peruna  to  an  Indian — that's  all  that  ever  happens  here. 
Otherwise  the  town's  as  calm  and  quiet  as  a  deaf-mute 
camp  meeting.  You  see  it's  so  blamed  hot  down  here 
folks  don't  like  to  take  the  trouble  of  scrapping.  If 
you  happen  to  see  a  man  on  the  street  with  a  gun  hang- 
ing against  his  leg  don't  make  the  mistake  of  thinking 
he's  a  bad  one.  Probably  he  hasn't  used  that  gun  for 
five  years  except  to  drive  tacks  with.  Of  course  if  they 
hit  the  gold  good  and  hard  up  North  a  ways,  there'll 
likely  be  something  doing  to  break  the  monotony.  It's 
what  we're  all  waiting  for.  There's  a  road  coming  down 
west  of  the  Valley  and  Bagdad's  the  natural  gateway 
at  this  end.  It's  bound  to  happen  sooner  or  later,  but 
just  when,  nobody  knows." 

Billy  rose. 

"  Well,"  he  concluded,  "  I  guess  I'll  take  a  little  walk 
over  town  myself — and  see  how  much  Charley  has  lost. 
Go  to  bed  whenever  you  want  to.  There's  nothing  to 
be  afraid  of.  And  you  needn't  bother  to  put  your  window 
down,"  he  assured  her.  "  It  only  rains  out  here  once  in 
fourteen  years  and  we  had  a  shower  last  August.  Good- 
night." 

In  the  ghost  light  she  followed  his  slight  figure  with 
her  smiling  eyes,  as  he  walked  away,  down  the  siding, 
and  when  he  had  disappeared  she  did  not  move.  Pas- 
sively she  permitted  herself  to  be  wooed  by  the  magic 
of  the  silent  desert  night. 


CHAPTER   VI 

A   DESERT    CAVALIER 

ONE  by  one  the  stars  came  out,  low-hanging  from 
the  purple  sky;  glittering,  and  cold  as  frost 
points.  To  Sadie,  sitting  alone  in  front  of  the  eating 
house,  it  seemed  that  by  lifting  her  hand  she  might 
almost  brush  them  from  the  air  above  her  head. 
Through  the  window  at  her  side,  and  the  open  door 
beyond,  the  yellow  light  within  cast  paths  of  radi- 
ance across  the  cinder  siding,  and  where  a  vagrant  ray 
touched  upon  the  burnished  rails  they  glimmered  lumi- 
nously. 

She  faced  a  vast  silence.  Out  there,  across  the 
tracks,  she  knew  the  desert  lay ;  an  endless  sweep  of  sand, 
a  weird  and  mystic  land  whose  menace  would,  ere  long, 
be  given  her  to  feel.  In  her  own  loneliness,  surrounded 
by  the  silence  of  the  purple  night,  she  sensed  a  subtle 
harmony  between  the  spirit  of  herself  and  the  conscious 
spirit  of  the  sea  of  sand — out  yonder.  Some  day,  per- 
haps, after  a  long  time,  she  told  herself,  she  might  learn 
to  know  the  desert's  shifting  moods  as  they  came  and 
went;  but  now  it  was  the  frost  light  of  the  close  and 
glittering  stars  that  charmed  her. 

Little  meaningless  incidents  of  her  life — back  home — 
crept,  one  by  one,  across  her  memory.  She  wondered 

52 


A  Desert  Cavalier 


what  Grace  and  Frances  were  doing  now,  while  she  sat 
here  in  the  stillness.  On  her  ringers  she  counted  the 
days  that  had  elapsed  since  she  bade  them  good-by  at 
Kelsey's.  To-night  was  their  night  off ;  it  would  be  hers, 
too,  if  she  were  there  with  them,  instead  of  here  hun- 
dreds of  miles  away.  Maybe  they  were  listening  to  the 
band  out  in  Chelsea  Park.  .  .  .  Then  she  thought  of 
Lacy  and  shivered.  .  .  .  Perhaps  she  had  treated  him 
cruelly  after  all.  .  .  .  Perhaps,  if  she  had  given  him  a 
chance,  he  might  have  been  able  to  explain.  As  had 
been  her  untrained  habit  for  as  far  back  as  she  could 
remember,  she  had  acted  with  him  upon  the  impulse  of 
the  moment.  When  but  a  little  girl,  playing  in  front  of 
the  house  on  a  dingy  street  in  Armourdale,  even  be- 
fore the  terrible  day  on  which  her  father  was  brought 
home  dead  from  the  stock-yards,  she  had  been  notorious 
among  the  mothers  of  the  neighborhood  for  her  head- 
strong wilfulness.  Never  having  felt  her  own  mother's 
guiding  or  restraining  hand,  she  had  grown  up  wild, 
like  the  chickweed  on  the  commons  across  the  way. 
Yet,  even  then,  as  now,  hers  was  the  portion  of 
labor. 

She  asked  herself  if  she  would  ever  learn  to  love  the 
land  out  here,  as  she  had  loved  the  dirty  streets  and  hills 
of  home.  Thus  far  her  knowledge  of  it  was  the  knowl- 
edge gained  in  a  single,  uneventful  day.  The  little  inci- 
dents of  the  afternoon  loomed  big  to  her  now,  in  the 
silence;  her  meeting  with  Thompson;  their  talk  in  the 
lunch  room,  and  again  this  evening;  the  affair  of  the 
drunken  Indian.  She  had  clearly  understood  his  reproof 

53 


Sadie 

of  her  action ;  and  she  made  a  bold  promise  that  hence- 
forth she  would  restrain  herself  and  let  the  conduct  of 
those  about  her  serve  as  model  for  her  own.  At  least, 
here  in  the  desert  was  peace.  With  a  little  sigh  she 
leaned  back  in  the  chair  and  closing  her  eyes,  shut  out 
the  frost  beams  of  the  glittering  stars. 

Suddenly  she  was  startled  by  the  crunch  of  a  heavy 
tread  on  the  cinders  at  the  end  of  the  building.  A 
tremor  of  fear  passed  over  her,  but  before  she  could 
cry  out,  a  shadow  crept  around  the  corner  of  the  station. 
Dumb  with  fright  she  waited,  huddled  in  the  chair. 
Then  in  the  path  of  yellow  light  the  shadow  took  form 
and  substance  and  she  saw  that  it  was  Rowley.  A  breath 
of  deep  relief  escaped  her. 

Rowley  was  arrayed  in  what  every  resident  of  Bagdad 
would  have  at  once  recognized  as  his  holiday  garments; 
a  suit  of  dusty  gray ;  the  coat  open  and  revealing  a  wide 
expanse  of  linen  vest,  in  the  "  V  "  at  the  throat  of  which 
was  disclosed  a  wedge  of  flannel  shirt,  garnished  with 
a  flowing  yellow  scarf.  Rowley's  condition,  moreover — 
a  condition,  it  may  be  called,  of  unsteadiness — would 
have  indicated  to  anyone  but  Sadie,  his  mood ;  a  mood  at 
once  amiable  and  amorous. 

"  Good  evenin',"  he  gurgled  throatily,  removing  his 
sombrero  with  the  gesture  of  a  cavalier. 

Sadie  managed  to  voice  a  weak  echo  of  the  salu- 
tation. 

"  'S  Mister  Tho'son  round — about  ?  "  he  inquired 
blandly,  seating  himself,  unsteadily,  on  the  edge  of  the 
vacant  chair  beside  her. 

54 


A  Desert  Cavalier 


Sadie's  first  impulse  was  to  gather  up  her  skirts  and 
flee,  but  Rowley's  exaggerated  courtesy,  and  the  oozy 
softness  of  his  manner  served  to  dissipate  the  fear  that 
she  at  first  had  felt.  She  hesitated  an  instant,  then  lied, 
bravely : 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  just  went  upstairs  to — to  lay  down 
a  little  while.  He  said  he  had  a — a  headache !  " 

Rowley  coughed.  "  'S  too  bad,"  he  mumbled  and 
settled  his  unwieldy  bulk  more  stably  in  the  chair. 

"  'S  pleasant — evenin',"  he  ventured,  passing  the  back 
of  one  hand  across  his  mouth  and  hiccoughing. 

"  Very,"  was  Sadie's  terse  agreement. 

"  S-s-some  cooler.  Hun'red  six-w'en  I  left — Bun 
March." 

"  I  thought  there  was  a  chill  in  the  air,"  Sadie  ob- 
served, and  looked  away  that  he  might  not  see  the 
laughter  dancing  in  her  eyes.  So  far,  however,  as  Row- 
ley's ocular  accuracy  was  concerned  she  might  as  well 
have  been  three  girls. 

"  C-c-connected  with — eatin'  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  just  came  to-day,"  she  informed  him. 

"  So  ?  "  Rowley  nodded,  and  removing  his  sombrero 
placed  it  carefully  upon  his  knees.  He  hiccoughed  vio- 
lently. "  P-p-p-pleasant  evenin' — some  cooler." 

The  last  vestige  of  Sadie's  first  fear  had  fled  by 
now  and  in  its  place  there  arose  a  livery  interest  in  him 
who,  obviously,  had  come  to  call  upon  her. 

"C-c-cur'ous  thing — 'bout  the  desert,"  he  gurgled. 
"  Hot-hot  as  'tis,  you — you  never  sweat !  " 

Under  other  circumstances,  as  Sadie  told  Billy 
5  55 


Sadie 

Thompson  afterwards,  she  would  have  "  jumped  up  and 
down  and  screamed,"  but  as  it  was  she  replied,  sweetly, 
"Is  that  so?" 

Rowley  nodded  and  pursed  his  lips. 

"  C-c-cur'ous  thing,"  he  repeated  insistently,  "  nev — 
never  sweat ! "  His  chin  dropped  upon  his  breast,  but 
with  an  effort  he  pulled  himself  together.  "  S'cuse  me," 
he  muttered,  shifting  his  position  laboriously.  "  Y'see," 
he  made  to  explain,  "  'course  you — you  sweat — same's 
anywhere.  Bu'  down  here,  the  sun's  so-so  damn  hot 
it — it  Vaporates — off'n  you — 'fore  you  know  it.  See? 
'N'  you  think  you — you  don't  sweat  't  all.  'N'  't  makes 
you — makes  you  cool — also !  " 

Trembling  with  smothered  laughter  Sadie  replied 
breathlessly:  "That's  funny,  ain't  it?" 

"  M-m-mos'  cur'ous  thing,"  Rowley  mumbled  dozily. 

A  period  of  silence  ensued  during  which  Sadie  sought 
to  fortify  herself  for  his  next  assault  upon  her  risibilities. 
She  had  not  long  to  wait.  As  if  he  had  forgotten  to 
declare  himself  and  his  intentions  until  now,  Rowley  sud- 
denly announced : 

"  M-m-m'name's  Rowley — J.  R.  Rowley — 'M  the 
pro-'m  the  propri'tor  the  Bun  March !  " 

"  Yes.  I  know,  Mr.  Rowley,"  Sadie  replied.  "  Mr. 
Thompson  told  me  this  afternoon." 

Immediately  the  Bun  March's  worthy  proprietor 
launched  upon  a  wobbly  eulogy  of  Billy,  followed  by  an 
equally  wobbly  tirade  directed  against  what  he  chose  to 
term  "the  Rai'way  Octopus." 

"  But  it  ain' — it  am'  that,  lady."  Turning  his  head 
56 


A  Desert  Cavalier 


he  studied  Sadie's  profile  a  moment  with  eyes  that  refused 
to  focus,  and  huskily  inquired :  "  Wha'  did  you  say 
your — your  name  mi'  be  ?  " 

"  Sadie  Morrison,"  she  told  him. 

"Yes— tha's  so."  He  nodded.  "But  it  ain'  that, 
Madam — Madam  Mor'son  that — I  come  to  talk  'bout  this 
— this  evenin'.  Itsh  'n  entirely — entirely  dif'runt  matter. 
'Refer  to  the  li'l  episode — occurred  thi'  safternoon — in 
Main  Street — front  Bun  March — in  which — in — which 
a — a — a  'toxicated  Injun — figgered — madam."  He 
stopped  and  passed  an  unsteady  hand  over  the  dented 
crown  of  his  hat  where  it  lay  on  his  knee.  Sadie  dared 
not  trust  her  voice. 

Hiccoughing  at  intervals  Rowley  continued  in  low, 
halting  sentences  of  studied  verbiage: 

"  I — I  seen  wha'  you  done  an' — an'  it's  a'  right ;  a' 
right.  Wha'  oughta  been — been  done — ten — ten  years 
'go.  All  the  greas — greaser  kids  in  Ba'dad  ain' — ain' 
worth  the  powder — take  to — to  blow  'em  up !  S'cuse  me. 
Done  jus'  right." 

"  The  kids  weren't  to  blame,"  was  Sadie's  spirited 
retort.  "  But  the  man  that  sold  the  Indian  the  stuff ; 
he's  the  one." 

The  words  had  sprung  of  their  own  accord  from  her 
lips;  fearfully  she  awaited  the  effect  upon  the  not  guilt- 
less Rowley. 

For  a  moment  he  studied  the  crown  of  his  hat. 

"  Tha'  too  bad,"  he  muttered,  "  too  bad.  'S  all  right 
— though ;  's  all  right.  He  got  it  off 'n — off 'n  me ;  's  all 
right.  Said  a  snake'd  bit  him.  How's  I  to  know? 

57 


Sadie 

Huh?  How's  I  to  know  w'en  said  snake'd  bit  him. 
Couldn't  have  him — him  dyin' — in  Bun  March — snake 
bite.  Could  I — madam?  Say,  could  I?  Tha's  what  I 
come — come  over  to  'splain.  Jerry  Rowley  ain' — ain' 
got  nothin'  'gainst  Injuns.  I — I — I  know  lots  Injuns. 
Frien's  o'  mine — lots  of  'em — frien's  o'  mine.  Used  to 
trade — trade  with  'em.  No  good — now ;  demor-demoral- 
— demoralized!  All  of  'em  demor — demor'ized.  No 
good.  Tourists — tourists  done  it.  On'y  time  ever  had 
any — any  thouble  wiv'  'em  once — once  down — Sonora. 
More'n  millyuntook — took  after  me;  me'n' — m'  pardner. 
Bu'  we — we  done  'em  up;  me  V  m' — pardner.  Done 
'em  up  good — me  'n'  him.  Killed  ev'ry — ev'ry  damn  one 
of  'em.  'N'  all  we  had — me  'n'  m'  pardner — was  a  couple 
— couple  ol'  old-fashioned — cav'lry  colts.  Never — never 
see  such  killin'.  Folks  down — down  there  was  trip- 
pin' — trippin'  over  dead  Injuns  fer — fer  months.  But 
them — them  Yaquis  ain' — ain'  real  Injuns.  Dah!  Jes' 
bugs!" 

Again  he  fell  silent,  and  Sadie,  opportunely,  indulged 
in  a  spasm  of  coughing. 

"  Country  ain' — ain'  what  used  to  be,"  he  resumed 
presently.  "All  gone  t'  hell — s'cuse  me.  'Member  time 
all  man's — man's  life  worth — come  out — out  here.  Ever 
hear  'bout  me — me  settlin'  strike  down — Southern  Pacific  ? 
Huh  ?  Ain'  many  fellers  done — w'at  I — I  done !  Stood 
up'n  front  more'n — more'n  five  hund'ed  'Paches  and 
Eyetalians  wi'  nothin' — nothin'  but  old  six-shooter.  Tol' 
'em  what's  what!  Trouble  all  settled — no  more — after 
that.  Ask  anybody — down  round  Tombstone — 'f  they 

58 


A  Desert  Cavalier 


ever  heard — ever  heard  o'  Jerry  Rowley.  See  what — • 
they  say.  I'm — I'm  'n  old-timer  'n  this  country,  I  am. 
Can't  tell  Jerry  Rowley  anythin' — anythin'  'bout  this 
country.  No,  sir.  First  white  man't  ever — ever  saw  a 
snake  dance — over't  Oraibi — I  was.  Ask — anybody.  I 
been  out  here — out  here  s'  long  ev'ry  horned  toad  'n  the 
desert — knows  me." 

Rolling  about  in  his  chair  he  chuckled  bibulously. 

"  You  must  have  seen  a  good  many  changes,"  Sadie 
chanced,  biting  her  lips. 

"  Huh  ?  Changes  ?  Should  say — I  had.  Say  " — he 
leaned  toward  her  and  his  voice  took  on  a  note  of  mys- 
terious confidence — "  Say,  nex'  time — dance  down't  San 
Luis — wan'  t'  go  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Rowley !  "  Sadie  exclaimed.  "  I  couldn't 
I — I — I  couldn't  get  away." 

He  waved  his  hand.  "  Leave  t'  me,"  he  proposed 
grandly.  "  Leave  't'  all  to  me.  I  know — Billy  Thomp- 
son. I'll  fix  it.  Billy'd  do  anythin' — fer  me.  You 
leave  't  all  to  me.  Fine  dances — down't  San  Luis. 
Fine !  Sometimes — greaser  gits  killed,  but  " — he  made 
another  gesture  of  contemptuous  indifference — "  fine 
dances.  Leave  't  all  to  me.  Drive  over'n  buckboard — 
fine  drive.  Leave  it  to — to  me.  I'll  fix  it." 

Although  Sadie  had  nothing  to  say  at  the  moment 
she  promised  herself  that  she  would  warn  Thompson  in 
the  morning. 

Rowley  fumbled  at  the  lapels  of  his  coat. 

"  F'got  all  'bout  it,"  he  muttered,  "  f'got  all  'bout  it. 
Ain'  it  pritty?" 

59 


Sadie 

In  the  palm  of  the  hand  he  held  out  to  her  lay  a 
pink  and  waxen  cactus  blossom. 

"  Take  it,"  he  mewed.  "  Brought  it  to  you.  You 
can — have  it.  Pritty,  ain'  it?  Ain'  's  pritty's  you  are — 
but  pritty — pritty." 

His  voice  had  trailed  off  to  nothing.  His  chin 
dropped  again  upon  his  breast,  and  this  time  he  made  no 
effort  to  arouse  himself.  His  hands,  slipping  from  his 
knees,  hung  limp  at  his  sides.  Sadie  held  her  breath. 
In  the  yellow  light  that  shone  upon  him  where  he  slept 
she  noted  the  regular  rise  and  fall  of  his  linen  waistcoat. 
A  snore,  like  distant  thunder,  rumbled  up  from  the  depths 
of  his  throat. 

With  her  hand  pressed  to  her  mouth  Sadie  passed 
noiselessly  in  front  of  him  and  entered  the  eating 
house.  On  tip-toe  she  crossed  the  floor  and  ascended  the 
steep  and  narrow  stairs.  At  last,  safe  in  her  room,  she 
flung  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  burying  her  face  in  the 
pillow  gave  way  to  the  laughter  that  was  consuming 
her. 

Billy  and  the  cook  found  Rowley  still  asleep  where 
she  had  left  him,  with  the  lamplight  gilding  his  head, 
when  they  returned  an  hour  later.  With  difficulty  they 
aroused  him  and  indicated  his  course  across  Main  Street. 
to  his  lonely  'jlobe  home.  The  situation  was  quite 
obvious  to  Billy  and  he  called,  as  he  passed  Sadie's 
door: 

"You  awake?" 

Upon  her  laughing  reply  he  inquired : 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  time  with  Jerry  ?  " 
60 


A  Desert  Cavalier 


But  there  came  no  response  to  this  from  the  other 
side  of  the  door. 

Nor  did  he  refer  to  the  matter  in  the  morning,  though 
by  the  grins  on  the  faces  of  Skinny  McGregor  and  San- 
some  and  Robinson  as  she  served  their  breakfast,  she 
well  knew  that  he  had  told  them. 


CHAPTER  VII 
SKINNY  MCGREGOR 

YOU  see,"  observed  Skinny  McGregor,  "  it  all  comes 
of  Rowley  being  a  slant." 

Sadie's  eyebrows  lifted.  The  appellation  was  new  to 
her,  though  her  own  vocabularly,  in  that  respect,  cannot 
properly  be  said  to  have  been  limited. 

"  If  he  wasn't,"  Skinny  went  on,  "  he  wouldn't  have 
done  it.  But  that's  Rowley ;  that's  just  him.  He  wanted 
to  get  acquainted  and  had  to  bolster  up  his  nerve.  Every 
time  a  new  woman  hits  town  he  squeezes  into  those 
Fourth  of  July  clothes  of  his,  and  kalsomines  his  insides 
with  aqua  fortis  and  starts  out  to  burn  up  the  country. 
Sober,  he'd  shy  like  a  colt  at  a  street  car,  and  stand  on 
his  own  feet  and  giggle  like  a  high-school  blue-ribbon 
winner  on  Commencement  Day.  Wouldn't  it  make  you 
cry?" 

"  It  made  me  laugh,"  contradicted  Sadie.  "  I  thought 
I'd  explode;  and  I  nearly  bit  a  hole  in  my  lip  to  keep 
from  it.  I  was  almost  skairt  to  death,  though,  when 
he  first  bobbed  up,"  she  added  soberly. 

"  You  needn't  have  been,"  Skinny  assured  her. 
"  When  Rowley's  teed,  he's  as  tame  as  a  kitten — eat  from 
the  hand;  'specially  if  it  happens  to  be  a  lady's  hand." 
And  his  eyes  lingered  tenderly  upon  Sadie's  where  they 
lay,  passively  clasped,  in  her  lap. 

62 


Skinny  McGregor 


Skinny  had  loitered  for  an  after-breakfast  cigarette 
in  front  of  the  eating  house.  Sadie  sat  in  the  doorway. 
They  heard  Billy  whistling  as  he  moved  about  in  his 
room  above.  From  the  kitchen  came  the  clank  of  pans 
being  set  aright  by  the  cook.  On  the  cinders,  a  yard  in 
front  of  Skinny,  as  he  sat  with  his  chair  tilted  back 
against  the  wall,  lay  the  sharply  drawn  shadow  line  of  the 
eating-house  roof.  Beyond,  the  brazen  sun  poured  re- 
lentlessly its  heat  from  out  an  unflecked  sky  that  was 
as  blue  as  a  robin's  egg.  The  glass-framed  thermometer 
over  Skinny's  head  registered  one  hundred  and  five  de- 
grees, and  in  the  distance  the  air  trembled  above  the  sand 
sweep  as  over  the  surface  of  a  red-hot  stove. 

Toward  the  frail,  pathetic  little  figure  in  the  chair, 
Sadie  had,  since  first  she  saw  him  squatting  in  the  door- 
way of  the  Always  Open  Drug  Store,  felt  herself  strangely 
drawn.  He  seemed  so  direly  in  need  of  mothering,  of 
cuddling,  that  she  was  more  than  half  impelled,  even  now, 
to  put  her  arms  around  him  and  croon  him  to  sleep  with 
his  head  on  her  bosom.  A  light  of  infinite  tenderness 
came  into  her  eyes  as  she  watched  him.  He  was  so 
puny;  and  it  seemed  to  her  an  almost  muscular  effort 
with  which  he  held  the  half-burned  cigarette  between  his 
long,  thin  fingers. 

Thompson  had  told  her  how  ill  he  really  was,  and 
had  added  that  in  all  probability  he  had  not  long  to  live. 
Conscious  as  she  was  that  he  must  be  aware  of  this,  it 
was  perhaps  his  fortitude  in  the  face  of  impending  de- 
struction that  enlivened  her  sympathy  for  him  and  quick- 
ened the  mother  instinct  in  her  heart.  He  ate  little 

63 


Sadie 

enough,  she  had  observed,  and  she  did  not  wonder  that 
he  should  be  so  thin,  and  so  pale,  save  for  the  spots  of 
burning  color  in  his  sunken  cheeks. 

He  flecked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette  and  chuckled. 

"  Rowley  and  I  had  a  seance  once,"  he  said.  "  Few 
months  ago ;  over  in  the  '  Monte.'  He  had  an  idea 
I'd  tried  to  steal  his  girl." 

"  Has  he  got  a  girl  really  ?  "  Sadie  asked. 

"  Not  as  anybody  knows  of.  He  had  an  idea  he 
had;  that's  all." 

"Who  was  she?"     Sadie's  interest  was  growing. 

"  Oh,  just  one  of  the  girls  here  in  town.  Name's 
Alice,  but  everybody  calls  her  Allie.  She  came  up  from 
San  Luis.  She's  got  a  streak  of  Mex.  in  her  and  ought 
to  be  able  to  take  care  of  herself,  but  somehow  she  don't 
seem  to.  Sheepman  by  the  name  of  Lawton — Reddy 
Lawton  they  call  him  'round  here  on  account  of  his 
hair — he's  been  trailin'  after  her.  He's  no  good;  some- 
times he's  worse.  I  used  to  see  Allie  down't  San  Luis, 
where  I  was  'fore  I  came  up  to  Bagdad,  and  I've  sorter 
kept  an  eye  on  her.  One  night  she  was  standing  in  front 
of  the  Bun  March  talking  to  Rowley  just  as  Reddy 
happened  to  come  out  of  the  Golden  Fleece.  There 
wasn't  anything  doing  at  the  '  Monte '  and  I  happened 
to  be  outside  getting  a  little  air.  When  he  saw  Allie 
with  Jerry,  he  reared  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  went  plumb 
loco.  In  the  row  that  followed  I  managed  to  get  Allie 
away  'fore  anything  happened  to  her.  A  little  while 
after,  Rowley  came  tearing  into  the  '  Monte '  and 
wanted  to  know  where'd  I'd  taken  her.  I  didn't  think 

64 


Skinny  McGregor 


he'd  seen  me.  I  gave  him  a  line  of  hot  air  and  he  got 
mad  and  threatened  to  ventilate  me  the  next  time  he  run 
across  me  on  the  outside.  I  asked  him,  what  was  the 
use  of  waiting?  The  bunch  laughed  and  he  went  out. 
Since  then,"  Skinny  concluded,  throwing  away  the  end 
of  his  cigarette,  "  Jerry  and  I  ain't  exactly  on  what  you 
might  call  congenial  terms." 

Sadie's  eyes  were  flashing  and  her  hands  were  clasped 
tightly  in  her  lap. 

"  But  weren't  you  afraid  ?  "  she  asked  breathlessly. 

Skinny  looked  at  her,  a  pale  smile  curving  his  thin 
lips.  "  Who  ?  Him !  What  would  I  be  afraid  of  him 
for?"  he  sneered.  "Besides,"  he  added  dryly,  "I  hap- 
pened to  have  a  good  grip  on  the  gun  in  my  coat  pocket, 
and,  of  course,  if  he'd  made  a  move  I'd  have  had  him 
right.  All  the  same,"  he  declared,  rising,  "  Jerry's  got 
a  lot  of  good  qualities,  and  I'm  sorry  he  feels  the  way 
he  does.  Well,  I  guess  it's  me  for  the  '  Monte's '  giddy 
whirl."  He  yawned,  infinitely  bored. 

"  Some  day,"  Sadie  said,  "  won't  you  show  me  the 
wheel,  and  how  it  works  ?  " 

The  little  fellow  looked  down  into  her  upturned  face 
and  smiled.  "  Sure,"  he  agreed,  "  come  over  any  morn- 
ing. There's  never  anybody  'round  in  the  morning. 
Why  can't  you  come  over  now  ?  " 

Sadie  hesitated  a  moment  doubtfully.  Then :  "  I'll 
just  do  it!  "  she  declared,  springing  to  her  feet.  "  Wait 
till  I  get  my  hat." 

At  the  further  end  of  the  silent  "  Monte  "  bar,  as  they 
entered,  sat  Fernandez,  reading  a  'Frisco  paper  of  three 

65 


Sadie 

days   before,   and   dozily  puffing  a   black  and  odorous 
Mexican  cigarette. 

"  Jose,"  Skinny  called,  "  this  is  Miss  Morrison ;  she's 
over  at  the  Carter  house,  and  wants  to  see  the  wheel." 

Fernandez  nodded  and  exhibited  his  gleaming  teeth. 

As  he  explained  the  workings  of  his  toy,  Skinny's 
little  eyes  glinted  and  the  carmine  brightened  in  his 
cheeks.  In  detail  he  made  quite  clear  to  Sadie  the  tech- 
nique of  play  in  all  its  multitudinous  ramifications,  "  up 
and  down,"  "  corners,"  "  across  board,"  and  "colors." 
Finally,  by  way  of  practical  demonstration,  he  placed  a 
counter  on  the  board  and  shot  the  little  ball  around  the 
rim  of  the  whirling  wheel.  Sadie  followed  it  with  spark- 
ling eyes  until  it  clattered  into  a  cup  at  the  center. 

"  See,"  Skinny  indicated,  smiling,  "  I  win." 

Again  and  again,  to  her  increasing  delight  as  ex- 
pressed in  her  dancing  eyes,  he  repeated  the  extraordinary 
performance.  Recalling  what  Thompson  had  told  her 
she  realized  that  the  little  gambler  was  operating  the 
wheel  in  the  light  of  his  expert  knowledge  of  the  ailment 
from  which  it  suffered,  but,  though  she  watched  his  hands 
closely,  following  every  movement,  she  could  not  detect 
the  trick,  if  trick  there  were. 

"  Now  let  me  try  it,  won't  you  ? "  she  proposed 
finally. 

"  Sure,  come  around  on  this  side."  He  made  room 
for  her  between  the  wall  and  the  board.  At  first  she 
could  not  shoot  the  little  ball  from  under  her  fingers  as 
he  had.  Skinny  laughed. 

"  Here,  let  me  show  you,"  he  said. 
66 


Skinny  McGregor 


One  of  his  thin,  cold  hands  closed  upon  hers,  warm 
and  plump,  and  at  the  contact  a  thrill  passed  through 
him,  and  the  violet-veined  lids  flickered  over  his  eyes. 

"  This  way,"  he  murmured  huskily. 

He  pressed  her  fingers ;  the  little  ball  shot  out.  The 
marker  still  lay  where  he  had  first  placed  it  on  the  green 
board.  Watching  her  hand  where  it  rested  lightly  upon 
the  outer  and  stationary  rim  of  the  spinning  wheel  he 
pressed  with  one  finger  gently  against  the  casing  at  a 
certain  point.  She  observed  the  movement  as  the  ball 
rattled  into  the  cup. 

"  Do  I  win  or  lose  ?  "  she  cried,  bending  eagerly  over 
the  wheel. 

"Win,"  replied  Skinny  tersely.     "Funny,  ain't  it?" 

Then  their  eyes  met  and  in  hers  the  little  croupier 
read  her  knowledge  of  his  secret. 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged,"  she  said,  after  a  moment. 
"  I  wish,  though,  I  could  see  it  work  sometime  when 
they're  really  playing  it." 

"  Why  don't  you  come  over  ?  Billy'd  bring  you," 
Skinny  suggested. 

Sadie  clapped  her  hands.  "  Oh,  do  you  suppose  he 
would  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Let  you  roll  it  if  you  want  to,"  Skinny  promised. 
"  The  boys'd  be  tickled  to  death.  A  tourist  girl  from 
Chicago  dealt  faro  in  here  one  night  last  summer ;  didn't 
she  Jose  ?  "  he  called  across  his  shoulder. 

Sadie  turned  to  meet  Fernandez's  grin. 

"  Shore,"  he  corroborated.     "  Come  ainy  time." 

She  laughed.  "  Maybe  I'll  fool  you  one  of  these 
6? 


Sadie 

nights — and  come,"  she  warned ;  "  you  can't  tell."  Fer- 
nandez only  grinned  the  broader.  The  truth  was,  noth- 
ing would  please  him  better  than  to  have  the  word  go 
forth  that  a  girl  would,  on  a  certain  night,  act  as  croupier 
at  his  wheel. 

Skinny  followed  her  to  the  door.  Just  outside,  as 
they  faced  each  other  an  instant — "  You  saw  ?  "  he  asked 
under  his  breath. 

Sadie  nodded. 

"  Of  course,"  he  added,  in  a  half  whisper,  "  I  'don't 
need  to  ask  you  not  to  say  anything  about  it  ?  "  She 
shook  her  head ;  but  it  was  more  the  look  in  her  eyes  as 
she  did  so  that  assured  him  the  secret  of  the  "  Monte's  " 
wheel  was  safe  with  her.  As  she  walked  away  he  turned 
back  into  the  bar  to  meet  the  inquiring  stare  of  the 
proprietor. 

"  You  stuck  on  her,  huh  ?  "  Fernandez  called  over 
the  top  of  his  paper. 

The  color  in  Skinny's  cheeks  spread.  "  Who  ?  Me  ? 
I'd  be  a  wise  guy  to  get  stuck  on  her,  now,  wouldn't  I  ?  " 
he  replied  disgustedly.  But  thereafter,  for  a  long  time, 
he  sat  in  the  window  gazing  off  across  Main  Street  and 
the  tracks  beyond,  into  the  desert's  dusty  face. 

He  wondered  if  his  eyes  had  revealed  his  secret — 
the  secret  that  he  had  cherished  for  a  day.  Perhaps 
Billy  Thompson  had  seen  him  follow  her  hands  as  she 
placed  the  dishes  before  him  at  the  table,  for  he  had 
not  once  looked  into  Sadie's  face  until  this  morning. 
Uncertain  of  himself  he  had  not  dared.  Left  to  itself 
his  devotion  to  her  would  become  the  devotion  of  a  dog 

68 


Skinny  McGregor 


toward  one  who  treated  it  with  kindness ;  though  Skinny 
perhaps,  was  unaware  of  this.  It  was  doubtless  more  a 
characteristic  of  the  disease  devouring  him  than  of  him- 
self. Conscious  of  the  pitiful  frailty  of  his  body  he  would 
ask  only  the  blessed  privilege  of  loving.  A  bit  of  human 
wreckage  drifting  aimlessly  upon  a  sea  of  sand  he  knew 
that  the  pressure  of  a  soft  hand  upon  his  own,  the  wonder 
light  in  a  woman's  eyes,  were  not  for  him. 

As  the  weeks  slipped  by  thoughts  of  Sadie  came  more 
and  more  to  occupy  his  mind  in  his  leisure  hours,  for, 
while  he  stood  behind  the  wheel  in  the  low-ceiled 
"  Monte,"  there  was  no  time  for  thought  of  anything 
beyond  the  little  ball's  mysterious  and  unforeseen  cavort- 
ings.  At  such  times  Skinny,  the  spots  on  his  cheeks  a 
brilliant  red,  worked  silently  and  swiftly.  Therein  lay 
his  success  as  croupier.  His  eyes  were  on  the  board,  and 
on  the  spinning  saucer  of  the  wheel,  at  the  same  time 
and  he  was  credited  with  never  having  missed  a  play,  or 
permitted  the  surreptitious  withdrawal  of  a  chip,  once  the 
ball  had  shot  from  under  his  long,  slirn  fingers,  in  all 
the  months  that  he  had  served  Fernandez. 

But  away  from  the  "  Monte  "  and  its  magic  wheel, 
at  the  eating  house  thrice  daily  or  in  his  little  tent,  pitched 
on  the  sand  adjoining  Jose's  'dobe,  he  was  another  crea- 
ture, quite. 

He  had  lived  in  his  tent  since  coming  into  the  desert 
from  Colorado  three  years  before.  A  doctor  at  Manitou 
had  advised  him  to  dwell  in  the  open  if  he  would  live, 
and  in  time  he  had  learned  to  rejoice  in  his  canvas  home, 
affording  him,  as  it  did,  the  freedom  of  a  householder, 

69 


Sadie 

in  his  irregular  comings  and  goings,  without  a  house- 
holder's disquieting  responsibilities. 

For  hours  at  a  time,  of  a  morning,  after  breakfast 
at  the  eating  house  and  a  cigarette  in  the  sun  on  the 
cinder  siding,  he  would  sit  between  the  pinned-back  flaps 
at  the  front  of  the  tent,  reading  or  staring  off  into  the 
South.  Since  Sadie's  coming  he  had  thus  indulged  him- 
self even  more  frequently  than  before,  and  at  almost  any 
time  between  half  past  eight  and  noon  the  little  flag,  indi- 
cating his  presence  "  at  home,"  might  have  been  seen 
hanging  limp  from  its  pole  in  the  motionless  air  above 
the  peak  of  the  tent. 

Billy  Thompson,  standing  at  the  end  of  the  siding 
one  morning  two  months  after  Sadie's  appearance  in  the 
desert,  chanced  to  turn  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of 
Skinny's  house.  Although  the  tent  was  open  the  flag 
above  was  not  displayed  and  Billy  crossed  over  to  learn 
the  reason.  He  found  McGregor  half  reclining  in  a 
steamer  chair  within  the  tent. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Skinny ;  the  flag  ain't  up ;  you 
sick  ?  "  he  inquired. 

The  expression  on  the  little  fellow's  face  did  not 
change. 

He  shook  his  head,  wearily.  "  I'm  all  right.  For- 
got about  the  flag.  Run  her  up,  will  you  ?  " 

But  Billy  knew  that  he  was  "  on  his  nerve  "  again, 
as  later  he  expressed  it  to  Sadie.  Even  to  him,  who  saw 
Skinny  every  day,  often  many  times  a  day,  the  passing 
summer  had  left  the  marks  of  melancholy  change  upon 
his  face.  It  was  much  thinner,  and  the  spots  of  pink 

70 


Skinny  McGregor 


were  broader  now  and  brighter,  and  he  coughed  more 
frequently. 

"  Never  feel  quite  the  same  with  winter  coming  on," 
he  said.  "  I  haven't  since  the  bugs  built  their  nest — 
here."  He  tapped  his  sunken  breast.  Billy  smiled.  It 
was  always  thus  that  Skinny  had  referred  to  his  illness. 

"  I've  just  been  laying  here,  half  asleep,  thinking  all 
about  it,"  he  went  on,  in  a  low  tone,  quite  as  if  to  him- 
self. "And  do  you  know  what  I'd  like  to  do,  Billy? 
What  I'd  like  to  do  more'n  anything  else  ?  " 

Thompson  leaned  forward  and  laid  a  hand  on  the 
other's  thin  knee. 

"  What,  Skinny  ?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"  I'd  like  to  get  a  suit  of  clothes,  a  red-hot  one — 
like  some  of  yours — and  start  out  and  do  something — 
something  great — just  so's  a  lot  of  folks  in  this  dinky 
town'd  see  I  wasn't  only  a  one-lung  toad  layin'  'round 
in  the  sun  all  the  time,  after  all.  That's  what  I'd  like 
to  do."  His  smile  as  he  spoke  was  pathetic  in  its  utter 
weariness. 

Billy  laughed.  "  Maybe  you'll  have  a  chance  yet, 
Skinny,"  he  prophesied. 

The  little  fellow  held  out  his  thin  hands  and  studied 
them,  turning  them  over  and  over,  as  if  they  were  odd 
pieces  of  mechanism  that  he  was  examining  for  the  first 
time. 

"Ain't  much  good,  are  they  ? "  he  mused.  "  Ain't 
worth  a  tinker's  dam,  as  the  old  man  used  to  say — 
about  me." 

Never  before  in  all  the  time  that  Billy  had  known 
6  71 


Sadie 

him  had  Skinny  referred  to  his  people,  and  he  wondered, 
now,  what  might  be  the  reason,  apart  from  his  illness, 
that  lay  behind  his  coming  into  the  desert.  But,  after 
the  way  of  the  land  wherein  they  dwelt,  he  asked  no 
questions. 

One  morning,  a  fortnight  later,  he  visited  Skinny 
again  where  he  sat  loafing  in  the  "  A  "  of  the  tent  and 
while  he  was  there  Sadie  galloped  up.  She  had  ridden 
fast;  her  face  was  flushed,  and  against  her  cheek  tossed 
a  vagrant  curl  that  the  breeze  had  loosened.  Dropping 
the  reins  over  the  head  of  the  calico  pony  she  dismounted 
and  joined  them.  Skinny  brought  her  a  camp  stool  and 
she  sat  down,  fanning  herself  vigorously  with  her  wide- 
brimmed,  soft,  felt  hat. 

"  How  do  you  like  my  new  skirt  ?  "  she  asked,  spread- 
ing it  out.  "  It  ain't  so  bad,  is  it?  " 

The  garment  was  of  the  "  divided  "  variety,  for  Sadie 
rode  astride. 

Billy  declared  his  admiration,  but  Skinny  only  smiled. 

"  He's  down  in  the  mouth,"  Thompson  informed  her. 
"  You'd  better  cheer  him  up." 

McGregor  shot  him  a  pleading  look. 

"  He's  stringing  you,"  he  contradicted,  "  never  better 
in  my  life.  Say,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  was  pretty 
decent  of  Jerry  Rowley  to  let  you  take  his  pony  when- 
ever you  want  to.  I  told  you,  though,  he  had  a  lot  of 
good  qualities,  even  if  he  and  I  have  been  at  outs  for 
nearly  a  year." 

"  I  almost  died  when  he  told  me,"  Sadie  declared. 
"  I'd  wanted  to  ride ;  I'd  wanted  to  a  lot,  but  I  couldn't 

72 


Skinny  McGregor 


see  how  I  was  going  to.  I  couldn't  afford  to  buy  a  horse. 
Then  when  he  told  me  I  could  take  Pedro  whenever  I 
wanted  to,  I  nearly  fell  over." 

Billy  Thompson  was  looking  away  into  the  South. 

"And  he  got  you  a  new  saddle,  too.  He  never  had 
that  before,"  Skinny  observed. 

A  wave  of  color  came  into  Sadie's  cheeks  and  she 
let  fall  her  eyes.  Skinny  glanced  from  her  to  Billy, 
and  in  Billy's  scowl  perhaps  he  read  his  secret,  for  a  long 
whistle  escaped  him  and  he  nodded  wisely. 

Billy  rose  then,  muttering  something  about  having 
to  make  a  report,  and  left  them. 

In  the  momentary  silence  that  ensued  Skinny  studied 
Sadie's  profile,  as  it  was  turned  to  him. 

"  Did  you  think  ?  "  he  asked  quietly,  "  that  Jerry 
Rowley  had  sense  enough  to  offer  you  that  pony  on  his 
own  hook?  'Course  he  would  if  he'd  thought  of  it," 
he  added  hastily,  meeting  Sadie's  wondering  stare  with 
a  little  wistful  smile,  "  only  Jerry  ain't  the  kind  that 
thinks." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  blankly. 

"  Billy  put  him  up  to  it ;  of  course.  He  lets  Jerry 
have  the  credit.  That's  all." 

"  Skinny !  "     Sadie's  throat  trembled  tragically. 

"  It's  all  right,"  the  little  fellow  went  on.  "  Don't 
you  see  it  is?  Only  I  wouldn't  mention  it  to  Billy  if  I 
was  you.  Just  go  on  letting  him  think  you  don't  know. 
He'd  be  sore  if  he  thought  you  did." 

"  But,  Skinny,  how  do  you  know,"  she  insisted,  still 
in  doubt. 

73 


Sadie 

"  Can't  I  see  ? "  he  replied.  "  Couldn't  anybody 
see?"  He  smiled  as  he  spoke,  but  in  his  smile  there 
seemed  to  be  reflected  some  shadow  of  the  pain  he 
suffered. 

Slowly  the  meaning  of  the  speech  dawned  upon 
the  girl  before  him.  In  her  eyes,  as  for  an  instant 
she  let  them  rest  upon  the  pony  standing  just  outside 
the  tent,  dejected  of  head  and  somnolent,  a  thin  mist 
gathered. 

"  Skinny  " — her  voice  trembled — "  I'm  sorry  you 
told  me." 

He  sighed.  "  Oh,  I  suppose  I've  shoved  my  foot  in 
it  again,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  always  do." 

"  No,  you  haven't,"  she  took  him  up  quickly.  "  I 
didn't  mean  that,  Skinny." 

"  Fact  of  the  matter  is,  Sadie,"  he  went  on,  "  there 
ain't  anybody  in  town  —  even  old  Fernandez  —  who 
wouldn't  give  you  anything  they've  got — if  you  hap- 
pened to  want  it.  He  ain't  like  to  forget  what  you  did 
for  his  wife." 

This  reference  to  Sadie's  tender  nursing  of  the 
Senora  Fernandez  on  the  arrival  of  the  fifth  small  Fer- 
nandez in  this  vale  of  sand  caused  her  eyes  to  brighten 
momentarily. 

"  Why,  anybody'd  done  that,  Skinny,"  she  declared 
impulsively. 

"  Uh,  huh."  Skinny  winked.  "  Maybe — only  nobody 
ever  had  before.  Why,  you've  reformed  the  town,"  he 
ran  on.  "  Robinson's  had  his  hair  cut,  Sansome's  been 
wearing  a  white  shirt  for  nearly  six  months,  and  Jerry 

74 


Skinny  McGregor 


Rowley's  quit  drinking — I  mean  hard.  He  couldn't  quit 
altogether.  He's  worn  that  linen  vest  of  his  more  since 
you  hit  town  than  he  ever  did  before.  And  as  for  the 
kids !  Lord,  they  have  to  tell  their  own  mothers  who  they 
are,  since  you've  got  'em  to  washing  their  faces!  I 
suppose  the  next  thing  they'll  be  playing  parchesi  and 
ping-pong  down  at  the  *  Monte '  and  I'll  lose  my  little 
old  job." 

"  Oh,  Skinny,  shut  up !  "  Sadie  cried  and  made  play- 
fully to  strike  him  with  her  quirt,  but  he  dodged. 

"That's  right,"  he  insisted. 

"And  I  told  him  I  couldn't  go  to  the  dance  with 
him,"  she  declared. 

Skinny  sat  up.    "  Who  ?  "  he  asked  blankly. 

"  Mr.  Rowley." 

He  lay  back  again. 

"  I'm  going  with  Mr.  Thompson,"  Sadie  added. 

"Wish  I  was  able  to  attend,"  Skinny  said.  "The 
dances  down  at  San  Luis  are  warm  ones.  You  won't 
need  a  fur  coat.  Going  to  ride  over  ?  " 

Sadie  nodded.  "  But  I  wish  now,"  she  declared, 
"  that  I  hadn't  told  Mr.  Thompson  I'd  go." 

Skinny  leaned  suddenly  forward,  and  as  she  spoke 
he  observed,  pointing: 

"  There  goes  Reddy  Lawton  and  Allie,  over  there. 
They  must  have  made  up." 

Sadie  went  to  the  front  of  the  tent.  Lawton  and  the 
girl  were  crossing  Main  Street.  If  they  had  "  made  up  " 
as  Skinny  suggested  they  gave  no  sign,  for  suddenly  the 
girl  snatched  her  arm  from  Lawton's  clutch  and  ran 

75 


Sadie 

swiftly  across  the  street.  For  a  moment  the  man  stood 
very  still,  where  she  had  left  him,  then,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  turned  and  walked  rapidly  away,  in  the  oppo- 
site direction. 

"  He'll  kill  her  yet,"  Skinny  declared  casually. 

The  eyes  which  Sadie  turned  to  his  were  glittering 
and  about  her  mouth  appeared  the  hard  lines  of  sudden 
determination. 

"  There's  a  good  chance  for  missionary  work,"  the 
little  fellow  sneered.  "  Only  a  gun  would  be  better  than 
a  prayer  book." 

"  Why  don't  she  leave  him  alone  ? "  Sadie  asked 
harshly.  "  Why  don't  she  hand  him  a  good  one  and 
quit  him?" 

Skinny  studied  her  face  as  she  stood  looking  'down 
at  him,  awaiting  his  answer. 

"  Reddy  don't  happen  to  be  that  kind,"  he  drawled. 
"He  won't  let  her." 

She  struck  her  skirt  smartly  with  the  quirt  she  car- 
ried, the  thong  of  which  encircled  her  wrist. 

"  She's  a  fool,"  she  declared.  "  Some  day,  maybe, 
I'll  tell  her  so." 

So  saying  she  left  him  and  caught  up  the  reins, 
hanging  from  the  pony's  bit.  With  something  more  than 
admiration  glowing  in  his  eyes  Skinny  saw  her  spring 
lightly  into  the  saddle  and  heard  her  cluck  to  Pedro. 
Then,  as  horse  and  rider  disappeared  up  Main  Street, 
his  fingers  uncurled  and  he  closed  his  eyes  with  a  sigh 
of  infinite  weariness. 

Ten  minutes  later  Billy  Thompson  in  his  room  at 
76 


Skinny  McGregor 


the  eating  house  heard  Sadie's  footfalls  on  the  stairs.  As 
she  passed  his  half  open  door  he  called  to  her  and  she 
stopped.  He  was  sitting  by  the  open  window  cleaning 
the  heavy,  blue-steel  revolver  she  had  so  often  noticed 
hanging  in  its  holster  of  stamped  leather  from  a  nail  in 
the  wall  at  the  head  of  his  bed. 

"  Charley's  been  kicking,"  he  began  slowly,  without 
lifting  his  eyes,  "  about  your  eating  out  there  in  the 
kitchen.  It  ain't  very  big,  you  know,  and — well,  I  guess 
it  would  make  it  easier  for  him  if  you  took  your  meals 
in  the  dining  room  from  now  on." 

In  the  pause  that  followed  Sadie  looked  down;  she 
drew  her  lower  lip  between  her  teeth,  and  the  color 
deepened  in  her  cheeks. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Thompson,"  she  replied  finally. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that  reminds  me."  Billy  held  the  cylinder 
of  the  gun  to  his  eye  and  squinted  through  the  cham- 
bers. "  I  meant  to  speak  about  it  before.  You  see, 
out  in  this  country,  they  don't  '  Mister '  folks  much. 
You're  the  only  party  in  town  that  calls  me  '  Mister ' 
and — well,  it  makes  me  feel  so  blamed  old  I  wish  you'd 
cut  it  out.  Call  me  '  Billy  ' — Sadie — if  you  will ;  I'd  be 
much  obliged." 

It  is  perhaps  just  as  well  that  he  did  not  look  at  her 
as  he  spoke,  for  had  he,  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have 
been  able  to  resist  the  impulse  to  take  her  in  his  arms 
then  and  there.  Instead  he  fell  to  polishing  the  pearl 
grip  of  the  gun  with  a  piece  of  chamois. 

"All  right,  Mister— Billy." 

They  both  laughed,  then  turning,  that  he  might  not 

77 


Sadie 

see  her  burning  face,  Sadie  ran  down  the  corridor  to  her 
own  room.  The  gun  was  permitted  to  rest  forgotten  for 
the  moment  on  Billy's  knee  while  he  stared  through  the 
doorway  where  she  had  stood,  and  perhaps  only  Skinny 
McGregor,  of  all  the  people  in  Bagdad,  could  have  read 
aright  the  declaration  in  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE   DANCE  AT  SAN   LUIS 

IN  the  light  of  what  little  McGregor  had  revealed  to 
her  concerning  the  trend  of  Billy  Thompson's  sen- 
timent, Sadie,  during  the  days  that  followed,  again  and 
again  asked  herself  if,  after  all,  she  should  accompany  him 
to  San  Luis  as  she  had  promised  to  do.  Not  that  she 
was  any  less  eager  to  attend  the  dance  than  she  had  been. 
She  had  heard  so  much  of  previous  affairs  of  the  sort, 
that,  on  the  contrary,  her  girlish  curiosity  was  thoroughly 
aroused.  If  Skinny  had  only  asked  her,  or  Robinson, 
or  even  Sansome,  who  on  three  different  occasions  of 
late  had  brought  her  gaudy  boxes  of  dried  candy  filched 
from  his  none  too  abundant  stock,  she  would  not  have 
hesitated.  The  doubt,  which  first  had  arisen  in  her  mind, 
of  the  truth  of  Skinny's  declaration,  had  since,  she  as- 
sured herself,  been  obliterated  by  Billy's  own  actions. 
Had  he  not  requested  her  to  call  him  by  that  affectionate 
diminutive  which  Bagdad,  in  its  easy  familiarity  in  all 
such  matters,  had  bestowed  upon  him;  and  had  he  not 
requested  her  to  share  the  table  in  the  dining  room  with 
himself  and  the  "  regulars  "  hereafter?  Moreover,  there 
was  her  declination  of  Rowley's  invitation  to  serve  as 
an  excuse  for  not  accompanying  Billy,  she  assured  her- 
self. However,  her  mind  was  made  up  for  her  in  the 

79 


Sadie 

end  by  Billy  himself,  who  at  breakfast  on  the  following 
day  announced  that  Rowley  had  declared  his  intentions 
of  joining  a  prospecting  expedition  that  would  leave  for 
the  northern  gold  fields  on  the  very  night  of  the  dance. 
Thus  robbed  of  the  one  excuse  she  would  have  had 
for  not  accepting  Billy's  "bid,"  Sadie  straightway  flung 
discretion  and  further  consideration  of  the  matter  to 
the  winds  and  decided  she  would  go.  Yes,  she  would  go 
with  Billy,  happen  what  might. 

The  dance  had  for  several  days  constituted  the  chief 
topic  of  conversation  among  the  habitues  of  the  eating 
house,  and  properly  so,  for  Gonzales's  "  parties  "  were 
famous  in  that  particular  corner  of  the  Never-never 
land.  Accordingly,  on  the  morning  of  the  momentous 
day,  Sadie  was  bubbling  with  expectancy.  All  the  after- 
noon Billy,  in  his  room  cleaning  his  puttees  and  touch- 
ing up  with  gasolene  the  straps  and  flaps  on  his  khaki 
riding  clothes,  heard  her  through  the  thin  partition 
bustling  about  in  her  chamber,  and  singing  low  to  her- 
self as  she  prepared  for  the  adventure  into  the  unknown 
that  lay  before  her. 

The  yellow  sun  had  dropped  below  the  western  line 
and  all  the  sky,  save  in  the  east  where  the  violet  shadows 
deepened,  was  a  riot  of  gold  and  red  and  amethyst,  as 
Billy  rode  down  the  siding  leading  Sadie's  horse.  Rob- 
inson and  the  cook  came  out  to  see  them  off,  and  while 
they  contested  each  his  right  to  assist  her  in  mounting 
the  little  animal,  Rowley  shouted  across  Main  Street  a 
command  that  they  take  care  of  themselves  and  have  "  a 
good  time." 

80 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

"  Think  you  can  run  things  all  right,  Charley  ?  "  Billy 
inquired  as  he  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"  Sure,"  declared  the  cook,  with  satisfying  confidence. 

Sadie  caught  up  her  rein,  and  waving  a  salutation  that 
included  not  only  Robinson  and  the  white-capped  Charley, 
but  the  distant  Rowley  as  well,  they  rode  away. 

"  I  suppose  those  two'll  be  getting  married  one  of 
these  days,"  the  operator  observed  disconsolately.  "  I 
never  thought  it  of  Billy,  though.  He's  got  it  bad ;  can't 
keep  his  eyes  ofFn  her." 

"  Neither  can  you,"  snapped  Charley  testily.  "  That's 
the  trouble;  the  whole  dum  town's  stuck  on  her;  stuck 
on  her  proper — except  me."  With  which  declaration  he 
turned  and  with  a  sigh  disappeared  through  the  gaping 
doorway  of  the  eating  house. 

Besides  these  two  there  was  still  another  who  had, 
with  quite  similar  emotions,  watched  Billy  and  Sadie  as 
they  rode  away — Skinny  McGregor — and  oddly  enough, 
perhaps,  the  thought  that  framed  itself  in  his  mind  as 
their  ponies  broke  into  an  easy  canter,  was  just  such  a 
one  as  that  to  which  Robinson  had  given  expression. 
Only  Skinny  did  not  voice  the  thought  as  Robinson  had 
done.  No  one  but  Fernandez,  polishing  glasses  behind 
his  bar,  would  have  heard  him  if  he  had,  and  Fernandez 
would  not  have  understood. 

In  the  distance  the  two  ponies  were  little  more  than 
moving  spots  as  Skinny,  with  one  last  wistful  look,  turned 
back  into  the  bar  and  seated  himself,  with  a  deep  breath, 
behind  the  wheel.  Tilting  his  chair  against  the  wall 
he  closed  his  eyes.  Presently  he  began  to  whistle,  softly : 

81 


Sadie 

then  the  whistling  ceased.  A  drowsiness  crept  over  him, 
a  delicious  sensation  of  lassitude.  Once  Fernandez  threw 
a  cracker  at  him,  but  it  struck  the  wall  between  his  head 
and  the  dollar  slot  machine  and  fell,  shattered,  to  the 
floor,  without  awakening  him.  Even  the  scuff  of  Reddy 
Lawton's  heavily  shod  feet  as  he  came  into  the  bar  to 
have  his  flask  filled  was  insufficient  to  arouse  him,  as 
likewise  was  the  brief  conversation  that  ensued  between 
the  sheepman  and  the  proprietor  across  the  stained  and 
mottled  board. 

"  Coin'  down  t'  San  Luis  ? "  Fernandez  inquired, 
wiping  the  bottle  on  his  apron. 

"  Ever  hear  of  me  missin'  one  ?  "  Lawton  replied. 
Then  leaning  over  the  bar  he  winked  heavily  and  observed 
in  low-voiced  confidence :  "  Say,  Jose,  you  ought  to  see 
the  rig  the  lady's  in !  " 

Little  Skinny  in  his  tilted  chair,  behind  the  silent 
wheel,  dozed  peacefully. 

Off  to  the  South,  in  the  middle  of  the  wide,  hard- 
beaten  path,  between  the  ruts  cut  across  the  desert's 
breast  by  the  broad-tired  wheels  of  the  great  borax 
wagons,  Billy  and  Sadie,  side  by  side,  and  so  close  that 
now  and  again  their  stirrups  touched,  rode  on. 

"  It'll  be  a  little  different  from  the  dances  you're  used 
to  back  in  Kansas  City,"  Billy  said  in  reply  to  Sadie's 
question. 

"How?  "she  asked. 

His  smile  was  annoyingly  suggestive. 

"Apt  to  be  like  'most  anything,"  he  observed,  "  that's 
why  I  brought  a  gun." 

82 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

Her  hand  clutched  the  rein  spasmodically  and  her  eyes 
sparkled. 

"  It  isn't  dangerous,  is  it  ? "  she  asked,  and  in  her 
voice  there  was  a  pleading  note  indicative,  perhaps,  of  a 
hope,  on  her  part,  that  it  might  be. 

"  No,  not  'specially,"  he  assured  her.  "  Fact  is,  this 
country  quit  being  dangerous  when  the  story  writers 
back  in  New  England  discovered  it.  You  see,"  he  went 
on  with  cheerful  sarcasm,  "  there  used  to  be  a  lot  of  bad 
men  down  here;  more  here  maybe  than  anywhere  else, 
unless  it's  up  around  Santa  Fe.  But  when  the  story- 
book folks  began  writing  about  'em,  and  making  'em  ten 
times  worse  than  the  worst  of  'em  ever  dreamed  of  being, 
they  went  and  laid  down  and  died.  They  couldn't  live 
up  to  the  story  writer's  accounts  of  'em  and  it  was  shame 
they  died  of — really — those  that  didn't  let  some  one- 
armed  deputy  United  States  marshal  with  pink  whiskers 
and  fringe  on  his  gloves,  capture  'em  alive.  The  only 
ones  left  are  the  false  alarms,  the  tin-horn  four  flushers ; 
the  kind  that  kill  women  and  never  take  a  chance  with  a 
man  until  they  find  out  for  sure  he  ain't  got  one  of  these 
little  ready  references  on  him."  He  patted  the  pearl  grip 
of  the  gun  that  hung  in  its  stamped  leather  holster  against 
his  thigh.  "  Reddy  Lawton's  one  of  'em,"  he  added, 
"  but  I'm  just  carrying  this  for  show.  Don't  you  think 
it's  pretty?" 

"  Is  that  why  you  cleaned  it  ? "  Sadie  inquired 
naively. 

Billy  glanced  into  her  laughing  eyes.  "  I'd  forgotten 
you  saw  me,"  he  answered,  and  looked  away. 

83 


Sadie 

The  last  glint  of  gold  had  faded  from  the  western 
sky  and  the  shadows  were  gathering  thick  about  them 
as  night  descended.  In  the  half  light,  the  witching  mys- 
tery of  the  desert  deepened.  The  stark  and  rigid  cacti 
amid  which  they  rode  took  on  a  certain  fantastic  sem- 
blance to  giant  sentinels,  posted  here  and  there  to  guard 
the  trail.  The  evening  breeze  was  rising;  they  felt  its 
cool,  dry  caress  upon  their  faces. 

"  You  see,"  Billy  ran  on,  "  we're  pretty  close  to  the 
border  down  here,  and  sometimes  that  makes  it  a  little 
lively.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  '  fancy  boys ' — one  of 
the  real  Castilian  gazabos — bobs  up  full  of  mescale  and 
turns  a  trick  or  two.  Usually  it's  over  some  senorita 
or  other ;  some  dusky-eyed  maiden  who  spends  six  hours 
a  day  on  her  teeth  and  lets  her  finger  nails  slide.  Or 
maybe  one  of  the  rangers  ventilates  a  chap  that's  trying 
to  glut  the  labor  market  by  running  a  bunch  of  Pig  Tails 
over  from  Sonora.  But  mostly  they're  girl  fights  among 
the  Mexicans.  You'll  see  plenty  of  the  sort  I  mean 
to-night." 

"  But  there'll  be  white  folks  there,  too,  won't  there?  " 
Sadie  asked. 

"  Sure,"  he  declared.  "  Punchers,  sheepmen,  maybe 
some  tourists,  folks  like  Skinny  that  are  a  few  chips  shy 
on  lungs — but  wait  till  you're  there.  I  don't  want  to 
spoil  it  for  you.  Only  don't  get  your  mind  made  up  to 
see  a  palace,  even  if  that  is  the  name  of  Gonzales's  place. 
There  you  are  now  " — he  was  standing  in  his  stirrups — 
"  that's  San  Luis  off  there !  " 

In  the  glare  of  noon  Sadie  would  have  beheld  a  num- 
84 


The  Dance  at  San   Luis 

her  of  'dobe  structures  for  the  greater  part  huddled  to- 
gether on  the  desert's  breast  as  if  for  warmth;  narrow 
labyrinthine  streets,  little  more  than  paths  winding  in  and 
out  among  the  buildings ;  a  plaza  with  a  well,  shaded  by 
a  great  cottonwood  tree;  an  ancient  Mexican  cart  lean- 
ing on  its  warped  and  shrunken  wheels  of  solid  wood; 
goats  wandering  at  will ;  the  ruins  of  the  old  Mission,  the 
hollow  eyes  of  its  crumbling  belfry  staring  fixedly  off 
across  the  sand;  the  new  church  lifting  its  gilded  cross 
to  the  cloudless  sky — and  children;  children  clad  for  the 
greater  part  in  rags ;  children  whose  eyes  glinted  like 
beads  in  the  blinding  glare.  But  as  they  rode  down  upon 
it  now  she  beheld  only  the  shivering  ghost  of  the  town ; 
darting  beams  of  yellow  light;  but  she  heard,  clearly 
across  the  distance,  the  noises  of  its  life,  clamorous  after 
the  silence  through  which  they  had  come.  Five  minutes 
later  they  rode  at  a  gallop  into  the  settlement. 

His  pony's  length  in  advance  Billy  led  the  way. 
Through  the  open  doorway  of  a  saloon,  as  they  passed, 
shrilled  the  strident  voice  of  a  woman,  singing  to  the 
subdued  accompaniment  of  a  guitar  and  the  rhythmic 
clack  of  castanets. 

"  Getting  ready,"  Billy  called  across  his  shoulder;  but 
Sadie,  absorbed  in  the  novelty  of  her  surroundings,  did 
not  answer. 

Once  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  man  standing  close 
to  the  wall  below  a  window  the  shutter  of  which  swung 
back  above  the  narrow  pavement.  The  light  from  within, 
shining  across  the  shoulder  of  the  girl  at  the  window, 
her  fat  arms  folded  upon  the  sill,  struck  full  upon  her 

85 


Sadie 

lover's  upturned  face.  Sadie  noted  the  peaked  sombrero 
ornamented  with  stars  of  bullion  that  glinted  in  the  yellow 
light.  Then  the  picture  vanished.  Veering  a  corner 
Billy  flushed  a  covey  of  children  and  Sadie  laughed  aloud 
to  see  them  dart  hither  and  thither  and  plunge  into  the 
dark  vestibules  of  the  houses  like  prairie  dogs  into  their 
tunnels. 

Silently  moving  figures  wrapped  in  serapes,  the  wide 
brims  of  their  tall  hats  low  across  their  eyes,  passed  close 
to  the  'dobe  walls,  appeared  from  out  the  darkness  an 
instant  in  the  paths  of  light  streaming  from  the  little 
square  windows,  then  glided  back  into  the  black  again. 
It  was  all  very  new  to  Sadie  and  she  was  deliciously  con- 
scious of  the  thrill  that  crept  over  her  and  tingled  at 
her  finger  tips  as  they  threaded  the  narrow  streets.  It 
was  as  if  she  were  being  borne  through  a  city  of  dreams 
peopled  with  silent,  gliding,  half-hidden  shades. 

Suddenly,  at  a  turn  Gonzales's  Palace,  streaming  yel- 
low light  from  every  window,  rose  before  her  and  she 
gasped,  so  sudden  was  the  transition  from  darkness  into 
brilliance.  Billy  pulled  up  his  pony  and  she  came  along- 
side him. 

"  Pretty  gorgeous,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  observed. 

"  Let  me  take  it  all  in,"  she  answered  under  her 
breath. 

The  structure  was  of  two  stories,  facing  «;he  plaza. 
Down  the  front,  its  floor  slightly  raised  above  the  level  of 
the  street,  was  a  roofed  porch,  now  half  filled  with  men 
and  women,  who  for  the  greater  part  stood  leaning  against 
the  wall  in  silence.  In  front  of  the  porch  ran  a  paling 

86 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

to  which  were  tied  a  number  of  saddled  ponies ;  and  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  building  was  a  square  corral  which, 
early  as  the  hour  was,  held  many  more.  Through  the 
wide  main  entrance  of  the  bar,  as  they  approached,  floated 
out  to  them  the  nervous  rattle  of  the  roulette  wheel, 
the  sharp  click  of  chips  at  the  faro  table,  and  the  musical 
clink  of  glasses.  Yet  even  above  these  sounds  of  revelry 
were  heard  the  vibrant  tones  of  a  guitar,  strummed  in 
lively  time;  the  higher,  thinner  call  of  a  mandolin,  and 
the  wail  of  a  piano.  As  Sadie  dismounted  the  air  was 
changed  to  one  more  familiar  to  habitues  apparently,  for 
immediately  it  was  taken  up  within  and  lustily  sung  by 
half  a  hundred  men  and  women. 

Billy  secured  their  ponies  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
paling  and  taking  Sadie's  arm  guided  her  within  by  way 
of  a  side  door  at  the  back  of  the  bar.  The  room  was 
crowded.  There  were  sheepmen  in  corduroy  from  over 
East ;  cowboys  in  mangy  goatskin  "  chaps,"  ragged  and 
rent  by  the  cactus  through  which  they  had  ridden; 
vaqueros  and  ranch  employees  from  the  border,  their 
lithe  bodies  set  off  by  the  gaudy,  striped  scrapes  hanging 
from  their  shoulders,  their  bronzed  faces  flushed  with 
drink  and  excitement  beneath  the  brims  of  their  som- 
breros, ornamented  with  tinsel  balls  and  stars  and  bound 
around  the  brim  with  gold  and  silver  cord  as  thick  as  rope. 
Everyone  was  talking,  gesticulating,  calling. 

Billy  glanced  at  Sadie.     Her  wide  eyes  were  feasting 
on  the  scene ;  her  face  was  flushed  as  if  she  were  waiting 
for  the  signal  to  become  a  participant  in  the  revelry  rather 
than  as  she  was,  a  mere  spectator  to  it. 
7  87 


Sadie 

A  hatless  Mexican  in  his  shirt  sleeves  accosted  Billy 
and  waved  his  hand. 

"  Good  time,"  he  shouted  above  the  din. 

Billy  nodded.  "  That's  Gonzales ;  the  owner  of  the 
joint,"  he  muttered  below  his  breath.  "  His  old  man 
used  to  run  the  Palace  before  him,  when  it  was  wilder 
down  here.  There  used  to  be  bullet  holes  all  over  these 
walls,  but  Miguel's  plugged  'em  up  and  hung  whisky 
placards  over  'em.  Come  on;  let's  get  a  place." 

The  dance  hall  into  which  he  led  her  ran  the  full 
length  of  the  building  at  the  rear  of  the  bar.  Around 
three  sides  was  a  gallery  partitioned  into  stalls,  with 
curtains  that  might  be  drawn  close  across  the  front  above 
the  rail,  and  little  narrow  doors  at  the  back. 

"  This  has  seen  some  pretty  gaudy  nights,"  Billy 
observed.  "If  it'll  chirp  you  up  to  know  it,  probably 
a  hundred  men  have  died  in  this  room  before  they  could 
draw  on  the  fellows  that  got  'em.  But  nowadays  there's 
nothing  doing  unless  a  Mexican  sticks  a  knife  into 
somebody  that  he  thinks  is  trying  to  steal  his  girl." 

Sadie  pulled  in  her  breath  greedily  between  tight- 
shut  teeth. 

At  the  end  of  the  gallery  were  the  six  musicians, 
spectacles  all,  in  the  velvet  and  gold,  now  somewhat 
tarnished,  of  another  day.  They  were  young  fellows 
with  a  certain  air  of  bravado  in  their  manner  and  frank 
insolence  in  their  eyes.  The  seams  of  their  slashed, 
wide-bottomed  breeches  of  magenta  velvet  were  lined 
by  rows  of  silver  discs,  and,  garnishing  their  boleros,  was 
still  more  silver.  Their  waists  were  swathed  with  vari- 

88 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

colored  sashes  selected  to  match  the  scrapes  carelessly 
hanging  from  their  shoulders,  and  the  flowing  scarves 
about  their  smooth  brown  throats  were  startling  in  their 
brilliancy. 

Billy  led  the  way  up  the  stairs,  behind  the  orchestra 
and  down  the  narrow  run  at  the  rear  of  the  stalls  to  a 
box  directly  opposite  the  wide  entrance  to  the  bar.  That 
they  were  not  alone  up  here  was  indicated  by  the  drawn 
curtains  in  front  of  other  boxes  here  and  there  around 
the  gallery. 

"  The  boy  will  be  in  for  drinks  before  long,"  Billy 
observed  as  Sadie  seated  herself  at  the  rail  and  removed 
her  hat.  "  A  little  of  Gonzales's  wine  won't  hurt  you, 
but  you  needn't  drink  it  if  you  don't  want  to." 

Already  a  dozen  couples  were  wandering  aimlessly 
about  the  rough  and  splintered  floor  below.  With  a 
smile  playing  around  her  lips  and  eyes,  Sadie  observed 
them  separately  as  one  by  one  they  came  from  beneath 
the  gallery  within  her  range  of  vision.  From  the  rest 
of  them  her  attention  was  diverted  presently  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  girl  at  the  lower  end  of  the  hall.  She 
wore  the  Mexican  costume,  but  Sadie  saw  only  her  back 
as  she  stood  below,  her  face  uplifted,  talking  to  the 
musicians,  all  of  whom,  she  noted,  hung  over  the  rail 
with  obvious  delight. 

"  Do  you  know  who  that  is  ?  "  Billy  asked. 

Sadie's  eyes  met  his.     "No,  who?" 

"  Wait  till  she  turns  around." 

She  turned  then  and  Sadie  saw  that  it  was  Allie, 
Reddy  Lawton's  girl  as  she  had  come  to  be  designated 

89 


Sadie 

in  Bagdad  for  reasons  as  distressing  as  they  were  ap- 
parent. 

Sadie  saw  her  glance  quickly  over  her  shoulder,  and 
following  the  direction  of  her  eyes  beheld  Lawton  him- 
self standing  in  the  entrance  to  the  bar  and  glowering  at 
her.  Allie  gave  a  little  shrug — whereat  the  Mexicans 
showed  their  teeth — and,  waving  her  hand  to  them,  joined 
him.  Then  they  disappeared  from  Sadie's  sight  into  the 
crowded  bar  beyond. 

"  Reddy  looked  ugly,  "didn't  he  ?  "  commented  Billy, 
from  where  he  sat  behind  her  in  the  shadow,  his  chair 
tilted  back  against  the  wall  at  the  side  of  the  narrow  door. 
"  She  wants  to  be  a  little  careful  how  she  carries  on 
when  Red's  around.  He's  one  of  the  kind  of  bad  men 
I  told  you  about.  He'd  just  as  soon  kill  a  woman  as  a 
lizard,  maybe  a  little  sooner." 

Sadie  shivered.     "  Poor  girl,"  she  murmured. 

"  Poor  nothing ! "  Billy  snapped.  "  She  knows  it. 
That's  why  she  likes  him." 

Slowly  her  head  turned  until  their  eyes  met.  A 
moment  Sadie  hesitated,  then  she  asked,  coldly :  "  Do 
you  believe  that  ?  " 

Billy  laughed  by  way  of  reply  and  she  looked  away 
again,  permitting  him  to  study  the  curve  of  her  neck  and 
shoulder  through  the  meshes  of  the  lace  yoke  in  the  waist 
she  wore. 

"Why  don't  it  begin?"  she  complained,  after  a  long 
period  of  silence,  and  even  as  she  spoke  Gonzales,  appear- 
ing in  the  entrance,  waved  a  hand  to  the  watching 
musicians.  At  the  first  cry  of  the  piano  the  bar  emptied 

90 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

itself  into  the  hall,  and  from  an  almost  barren  room  it 
became,  in  an  instant,  a  riot  of  trembling  color  and  alive 
with  tumultuous  revelry. 

Sadie  straightened  in  her  chair  and  Billy  heard,  smil- 
ing, the  hiss  of  her  in-drawn  breath. 

"  It  promises  to  be  a  warm  one,"  he  observed,  but 
she  made  no  reply,  so  eager  was  she  that  nothing  that 
might  occur  on  the  floor  below  should  escape  her  spark- 
ling eyes.  The  figures,  gliding  through  the  yellow  light, 
the  shifting,  changing  colors,  the  scuff  of  the  shuffling 
feet,  the  laughter,  the  shouts,  and  above  all  the  frantic 
shrieks  of  the  piano,  combined  to  set  on  edge  every  re- 
sponsive nerve  in  the  girl's  slim  body.  She  tapped  the 
time  with  one  foot  upon  the  floor  of  the  stall  and  swayed 
her  head.  Selecting  a  couple,  perhaps  a  cowboy  in  goat- 
skin "  chaps,"  who  held  close  to  his  breast  in  a  wild 
embrace  a  dusky-eyed  senorita  of  the  border,  whose  eyes, 
uplifted  to  his  own,  spoke  her  ecstasy  at  the  moment, 
Sadie  would  attempt  to  follow  them  through  the  mazes 
of  the  dance  as  they  threaded  in  and  out  among  the 
others  like  a  shuttle  gone  wild  in  a  richly  colorous 
warp. 

The  first  excitement  subsiding  at  last,  she  settled 
back  in  her  chair  to  a  calm  enjoyment  of  the  scene. 

A  group  of  tourists,  the  women  of  the  party  apparently 
in  doubt,  entered  the  room  and  secured  stalls  near  the 
orchestra,  and  presently  Sadie  saw  one  of  the  young  men 
of  the  company  whirling  through  a  dance,  obviously  to 
his  companion's  great  delight,  with  a  Mexican  girl  whose 
naked  throat  rose  like  an  olive  pillar  from  her  bosom. 

91 


Sadie 

With  each  succeeding  dance  the  revelry  became  more 
wanton  and  here  and  there  were  enacted  little  scenes  of 
primitive  sport  that  caused  Sadie,  glimpsing  them,  to  let 
fall  her  eyes.  The  primordial  instincts  of  the  first  man 
at  a  bean  feast  were  loosened  here,  and  the  wanton  tram- 
pling under  foot  of  civilization's  conventions  became  a 
veritable  massacre.  Evidently  the  spirit  of  the  dance  had 
become  too  compelling  for  the  tourists.  In  single  file, 
Sadie  saw  them  descend  the  stairs  and  vanish  through  the 
door.  Ten  minutes  later  a  fresh  impetus  was  given  the 
affair  by  the  sudden  appearance  upon  the  floor  of  a  group 
of  shouting  cowboys,  in  the  full  regalia  of  their  calling, 
who,  snatching  up  the  girls  closest  at  hand,  whirled  them 
giddily  into  the  heart  of  the  revelry. 

"  That's  a  part  of  the  Bar  Y.  outfit  from  over  Cotton- 
wood  way,"  Billy  exclaimed,  with  quickening  interest. 
"  That  tall  fellow's  Slim  Leverett.  There's  '  Wyoming ' 
and  '  Texas '  and  there's  '  Curly ' — the  one  leaning 
against  the  table  smoking  a  cigarette." 

The  first  named  had  long  since  become  lost  in  the 
whirl,  but  the  man  whom  Billy  had  called  "  Curly  "  Sadie 
saw.  Evidently  it  was  not  his  intention  to  follow  the 
lead  of  his  fellows.  Rather,  he  watched  them  with  the 
light  of  amusement  in  his  eyes.  Among  those  about  him 
he  was  as  one  apart.  With  them  in  their  gayety,  though 
he  was,  even  to  the  girl  gazing  down  from  the  box  across 
the  hall  unseen  by  him,  he  was  not  of  them.  His  som- 
brero pushed  back,  revealed  his  youthful  face  fresh  and 
clean-cut  beneath  its  crown  of  yellow  hair. 

Billy  touched  Sadie  on  the  shoulder  and  she  started. 
92 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

"  See  that  girl  over  there,  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table  Curly  Watrous  is  sitting  on  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  that's  Margharita  Morales.  She's  supposed 
to  be  a  howling  beauty — the  belle  of  the  border.  Her 
old  man's  Pedro  Morales.  The  Government's  tried  to 
nail  him  a  million  times ;  smuggling  Pig  Tails  across  the 
line,  you  know.  She  belongs  to  that  tall  Mexican  in  the 
orange  and  green  scrape.  They  say  three  or  four  fellows 
have  stuck  each  other  on  account  of  her.  See  how  he 
keeps  an  eye  on  her?  Notice  that  little  Mex.  talking 
to  Allie  over  in  the  corner?  That's  Miguel  Fernandez, 
Jose's  brother  that  runs  the  Monte,  back  in  Bagdad. 
He  and  Jose  had  a  fight  once  and  don't  speak  now.  He's 
another  one  of  the  tin-horn  bad  men  I  was  talking  about. 
His  girl  tried  to  run  a  knife  into  him  down  here  last 
year  and  the  next  summer  eloped  with  one  of  the  'ostlers 
of  Orrin's  circus.  Last  anybody  heard  of  her  she  was 
shooting  frijoles  and  chili  concarne  in  an  American 
boarding  house  in  the  City  of  Mexico.  There's  a  chunk 
of  romance  for  you.  Say ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  how  do 
you  like  it  anyway.  Think  you've  had  enough?  Are 
you  tired  ?  " 

"  Just  a  little — in  my  eyes,"  Sadie  replied.  "  I  never 
saw  anything  like  it." 

"  Makes  the  dances  back  in  Kansas  City  look  like 
Sunday-school  entertainments,  don't  it?"  he  inquired 
dryly. 

"And  then  some,"  she  agreed. 

She  leaned  forward  again.  The  table  whereon  Curly 
93 


Sadie 

Watrous  had  sat  was  vacant.  She  swept  the  dancing  floor 
with  her  eyes  but  he  had  disappeared. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  down  and  get  a  little  bottle  of  Gon- 
zales's  wine,"  Billy  said  over  her  shoulder.  "  It's  a  long 
ride  back  and  it'll  do  you  good." 

"All  right,"  she  replied. 

She  heard  the  click  of  the  lock  in  the  little  door  be- 
hind her  as  he  closed  it.  Leaning  over  the  rail  she 
searched  the  shifting  throng  below  for  some  sign  of  the 
vanished  cowboy. 

"  Watrous,"  she  murmured  under  her  breath,  "  Wat- 
rous, Watrous,  Watrous." 

But  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  with  a  little 
sigh  she  settled  back  in  her  chair. 

Earlier  in  the  evening  two  or  three  altercations  had 
occurred  in  different  parts  of  the  hall,  but  as  the  results 
had  in  no  case  been  fraught  with  disaster — indeed  the 
affairs  had  been  of  but  momentary  'duration — Sadie  was 
not  prepared,  in  spite  of  Billy's  assurance  that  Gonzales's 
dances  were  always  "  warm  ones,"  for  the  outbreak  which 
occurred  suddenly,  and  not  five  minutes  after  he  had  left 
her,  directly  beneath  the  box  in  which  she  sat.  Her 
attention  was  first  aroused  by  a  sudden  ceasing  of  the 
music.  The  musicians  were  leaning  over  the  rail  at 
their  end  of  the  gallery,  while  across  the  hall  a  score  of 
obviously  frightened  girls  were  struggling  to  escape 
through  the  entrance  to  the  bar.  Then  the  momentary 
silence  was  torn  by  a  woman's  agonized  shriek ! — 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  let  him  kill  her !  " 

At  the  cry  Sadie  shrank  back,  and  her  face  blanched. 
94 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

Then  she  saw  Gonzales  plunge  through  the  throng  at 
the  bar  door  and  rush  down  the  floor  brandishing  a 
revolver.  His  face  was  scarlet  in  the  yellow  light,  and 
she  distinguished  quite  clearly  the  thick,  ropey  cords  of 
his  neck.  Flourishing  his  gun  aloft  in  the  faces  of  the 
gaping  musicians: — 

"  Play,  you  damn  fools !  "  he  cried.  "  Play !  " 
Thereupon  he  ran  back  and  cast  himself  fearlessly 
into  the  heart  of  the  melee  beneath  the  gallery,  brushing 
men  and  women  aside  with  his  waving  arms.  In  the 
tense  instant  that  ensued,  Sadie  heard  a  man's  harsh 
voice  shout: 

"  It's  all  over !  " — and  another :  "  Cut  loose  up  there !  " 

The  piano  wailed  again,  and  as  suddenly  as  it  had 

ceased,  the  dancing  was  resumed,  more  frantically  even 

than  before,  it  seemed  to  the  girl  crouching  in  the  rear 

of  the  box. 

"  Why  don't  Billy  come ! "  she  muttered  aloud. 
A  faintness  due  as  much  to  the  vitiated  air  of  the 
place  as  to  her  fright  crept  over  her.  Groping  blindly 
her  fingers  encountered  the  latch  of  the  little  door,  and 
opening  it  she  slipped  out  into  the  narrow,  dim-lit  cor- 
ridor behind  the  box.  At  the  window  there  she  flung 
back  her  head,  and  closing  her  eyes,  drew  in  deep,  full 
breaths  of  the  reviving  outer  air.  Presently,  the  faint- 
ness  passing,  she  glanced  down.  On  a  pillar  in  the 
Palace  yard  an  oil  lamp  burned,  and  beneath  it,  vivid  in 
the  circle  of  yellow  light,  she  saw  Billy  and  Watrous. 
The  latter  was  leaning  lazily  against  the  pillar  and  rolling 
a  cigarette;  from  the  shining  surface  of  the  slim  wine 

95 


Sadie 

bottle  in  Billy's  hand  the  lamplight  glinted.  They  were 
talking  in  tones  so  low  that  she  could  not  distinguish 
their  words.  Watrous  struck  a  match  and  raised  it  to 
his  cigarette.  Looking  up,  as  he  exhaled  the  first  mouth- 
ful of  smoke,  his  eyes,  it  seemed  to  Sadie,  found  her  own 
and  instinctively  she  drew  back  from  the  window.  In 
another  instant  she  would  have  called  to  Billy,  but  as  it 
was  she  heard,  just  then,  the  rapid  patter  of  slippered 
feet  behind  her.  Turning  quickly,  her  eyes  encountered 
the  blanched  and  tearful  face  of  the  girl,  Allie. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  she  cried  impulsively. 

Allie  clutched  her  breast.  "  Oh,  my  God,"  she  sobbed, 
"  he's  going  to  kill  me !  He's  coming !  " 

"Who?"  Sadie  gasped. 

"Reddy!" 

Instantly  Sadie  acted.  Seizing  the  half-fainting  girl 
by  the  arm  she  thrust  her  forward  into  the  box  and  shut 
the  door. 

"  Don't  make  a  sound !  "  she  ordered. 

At  the  window,  there,  she  awaited,  with  seeming  calm- 
ness, whatsoever  the  next  moment  might  produce. 

She  glanced  down  upon  the  Palace  yard;  Billy  and 
Watrous  were  no  longer  there.  Scarcely  had  she  lifted 
her  eyes  when  Lawton,  his  jealousy  transformed  to  a 
murderous  madness  by  the  liquor  seething  in  his  uncouth 
body,  came  staggering  toward  her  down  the  corridor. 
With  low  growls  of  sullen  anger  he  flung  open,  one  after 
another,  the  doors  of  the  various  stalls  and  peered  within. 
Half  blinded  by  the  drink,  as  he  was,  he  did  not  perceive 
Sadie  until  he  confronted  her  as  she  stood  with  her 

96 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

back  against  the  door  of  the  box  in  which  the  fear- 
smitten  Allie  crouched. 

Unsteadily  he  took  one  step  backward,  and  blinked. 

Satisfied  apparently  that  it  was  no  ghost,  but  a  mere 
girl  confronting  him,  he  thrust  forward  his  face,  wherein 
was  reflected  all  his  bestial  rage,  and  growled: 

"Where  is  she?" 

Blankly,  Sadie  stared  into  his  lowering  visage. 

"Who?" 

Her  voice  was  tense  and  vibrant. 

"M'  girl;  I  seen  her!" 

He  came  nearer,  steadying  himself  with  one  hand 
against  the  wall. 

"  Lemme  in  there,"  he  demanded. 

Sadie's  breath  trembled  in  her  throat  and  her  clutch 
on  the  latch  of  the  little  door  tightened. 

"  You  ain't  going  in  there !  " 

Her  voice  quivered  with  passion ;  her  teeth  came  to- 
gether with  a  little  click;  the  lines  about  her  mouth 
deepened  and  her  eyes  flashed  a  challenge  into  those  of 
the  sodden  beast  before  her. 

Lawton's  jaw  dropped.  Dazed,  he  passed  a  huge 
hand  across  his  mouth;  then  slowly  a  horrid  leer  crept 
over  his  countenance. 

"  I'll  show  yeh !  "  he  snarled ;  and  came  closer,  half 
crouching,  as  if  about  to  spring. 

But  for  the  note  of  contempt  in  his  voice  as  the 
words  leaped  from  his  lips,  Sadie,  perhaps,  would  have 
succumbed,  without  further  attempt  to  defend  the  trem- 
bling, tawdry  creature  on  the  other  side  of  the  door ;  but 

97 


Sadie 

as  it  was,  the  leer  and  the  movement  of  his  arms,  as  he 
made  to  take  her,  stung  her  passion  to  its  core.  In  a 
frenzy  of  rage  she  flung  herself  bodily  upon  him  with 
a  cry  that  was  almost  feline.  The  instant  her  clawing 
fingers  touched  his  face,  the  girl  in  her  died  out  and  she 
became  a  cat ;  a  cat  maddened  to  fury,  and,  like  such  a 
one,  she  fought  with  tooth  and  nail.  She  heard  nothing 
save  the  rasp  of  Lawton's  breath  as  he  attempted  to 
escape  from  her  ferocious  onslaught;  she  saw  nothing 
save  flashes  of  red;  and  as  she  beat  him  back,  little  by 
little  down  the  narrow  corridor,  murder  waxed  big  in 
her  heart. 

Dazed  by  the  suddenness  of  her  attack  Lawton  had 
not,  at  first,  made  any  effort  to  meet  the  blows  she  rained 
upon  his  face,  nor  the  vicious  clawing  of  her  wiry  fingers ; 
but  now,  as  one  of  them  found  his  eye,  he  hissed,  mad 
with  pain,  "  You  devil,  you ! "  and  struggled  on  his 
own  account  in  sheer  self-defense. 

Sadie's  hair,  loosened,  fell  about  her  face,  blinding 
her.  She  made  to  brush  it  back.  Instantly  Lawton  had 
beaten  down  her  arms  and  she  felt  herself  crushed  within 
his  own,  as  helpless  as  a  rabbit  in  the  tightening  coils 
of  a  hungry  snake.  His  breath  struck  hot  upon  her 
cheek;  his  coarse  laugh  sounded  close  in  her  ringing 
ears. 

He  had  won.  That  was  her  only  thought.  He 
had  won. 

And  then,  as  her  senses  waned,  the  miracle  occurred. 

Little  by  little  she  felt  the  clasp  of  his  arms  about 
her  loosen  until  finally  she  slipped  from  his  embrace  and 

98 


The  Dance  at  San  Luis 

sank  upon  her  knees.  Brushing  her  hair  from  her  blood- 
less face  she  beheld  the  man  himself  sinking  to  the  floor 
before  her,  his  legs  bending  like  whalebone  beneath  him. 
Lifting  higher  her  staring  eyes  she  saw  across  his 
shoulder,  in  the  dim  light  of  the  corridor,  the  tense  face 
of  Billy  Thompson,  his  lips  tight-stretched  and  parted 
across  his  teeth,  as  his  long,  slim,  steely  fingers — locked 
in  front — closed  tighter  and  tighter  around  the  gurgling 
Lawton's  purple  throat. 

"Billy!"  she  cried.  "Billy!"  And  with  a  little 
whine  that  was  half  a  sob  she  fell  forward. 

When  at  last  she  opened  her  eyes  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  had  been  asleep  a  long  time.  She  was  sitting 
on  the  floor  of  the  corridor  with  her  back  against  the 
partition  of  the  box,  the  breeze  from  the  open  window 
blowing  full  upon  her  face. 

"  Here,  drink  this,"  she  heard  a  voice  say  as  from  a 
long  way  off,  and  lifting  her  eyes  they  met  Thompson's. 
He  was  kneeling  beside  her  holding  out  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  Thanks,"  she  murmured,  and  drank  greedily. 

Then,  little  by  little,  memory  of  what  had  passed 
emerged  from  the  chaos  of  her  mind. 

"  Where's  Allie  ?  "  she  asked,  with  reviving  strength. 

Blankly,  Thompson  stared  into  her  face. 

"Allie?"  he  echoed. 

"  Oh,  yes."  She  sighed  and  passed  her  hand  across 
her  forehead.  "  He  was  going  to  kill  her.  That's  what 
it  was  all  about,"  she  murmured. 

The  look  of  inquiry  in  his  face  gave  place  to  an  ex- 
pression of  dumb  amazement. 

99 


Sadie 

"  She  got  away,"  he  said  simply,  "  while  you  were 
at  it,  I  guess." 

"And — and  has  Reddy  gone  ?  "  she  pleaded. 

He  smiled  broadly. 

"  I  guess  you'd  thought  so  if  you'd  heard  him  land 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  That's  what  brought  you  to." 

He  helped  her  to  rise  and  stood  by  watching  her  while 
she  caught  up  her  disheveled  hair. 

"  Do  you  feel  able  to  ride  back  ?  "  he  inquired  pres- 
ently; "if  you  don't " 

"  It'll  do  me  good,"  she  broke  in.  "  Wait  till  I  get 
my  hat." 

As  she  walked  back  down  the  corridor  to  the  box  from 
which  the  girl  Allie  had  escaped,  unseen,  during  the 
heat  of  the  conflict,  Billy  Thompson,  gazing  after  her, 
slowly  shook  his  head  and  emphasized  the  wonder  that 
he  felt  by  making  a  little  metallic  sound  with  his  tongue 
against  his  teeth. 

"  I'm  all  right  now,"  Sadie  declared  as  she  rejoined 
him,  tucking  her  hair  into  the  crown  of  her  wide- 
brimmed  hat. 

"  You're  sure  you've  had  enough  ? "  Billy  urged 
earnestly. 

The  look  that  she  gave  him  was  worth  more  than 
her  assurance  as  proof  that  she  was  quite  herself  again. 

"A  plenty,"  she  replied,  and  smiled  wearily. 

And  so,  amid  the  increased  clamor  of  the  dance,  they 
descended  the  stairs  together  to  the  accompanient  of  the 
piano's  frantic  cry;  and  passed  out  of  the  Palace  into 
the  cool  of  the  starlit  night. 

IOO 


CHAPTER   IX 

SADIE   INTERVENES 

SIDE  by  side  and  silently,  save  for  the  thud  of  the 
ponies'  hoofs,  they  rode  forth  into  the  desert.  In 
the  purple  sky  a  white  moon  floated,  and  over  the  land 
lay  a  shimmer  of  silver  save  where  the  tall  cacti  cast 
their  shadows  of  deathly  black  upon  the  sand. 

San  Luis  was  far  behind  when  Billy  broke  the  silence. 

"  Sadie,"  he  said,  riding  closer,  so  close  that  he  might 
have  encircled  her  waist  with  his  arm,  "  Sadie,  do  you 
mind  telling  me  what  you  did  it  for  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him.  In  the  moonlight  her  face  was 
strangely  pale,  but  her  eyes  were  questioning. 

"What?"  she  asked. 

"  The  row  with  Lawton,"  he  explained.  "  Why 
didn't  you  let  Allie  paddle  her  own  canoe  ?  " 

"And  not  help  her  ? "  she  exclaimed,  the  wonder 
deepening  in  her  eyes,  "  when  he  would  have  killed  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  of  it  ?  "  Billy  caught  up  the  rein  with 
a  little  impatient  gesture. 

"Billy!" 

As  once  before  it  had  done  to-night  his  heart  leaped 
in  his  breast  now  as  she  spoke  his  name,  but  something 
in  the  tone  of  her  voice,  perhaps  a  note  of  pained  re- 
proof, caused  him  to  look  away  regretfully. 

"If  you've  framed  it  up  to  save  the  lives  of  all  the 

101 


Sadie 

girls  out  here,  like  Allie,"  he  went  on  quietly,  "  you'll 
find  your  work  cut  out  for  you,  good  and  plenty.  Why, 
Sadie,  they  grow  in  this  country  like  cactus,  and  like  the 
cactus  they're  able  to  take  care  of  themselves  without 
help." 

"Allie  can't,"  she  put  in  quickly. 

"  Maybe  not,"  he  agreed,  if  doubtfully,  "  but — oh, 
well,  she  ain't  your  kind,  Sadie." 

It  was  not  quite  what  he  had  meant  to  say,  and  he 
was  a  little  fearful  of  what  her  reply  might  be.  Leaning 
forward  in  the  saddle  he  spoke  to  the  pony  softly  and 
patted  its  sleek  neck. 

"  She's  a  girl,  Billy."  That  was  all  and  he  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

For  a  little  space  they  rode  on  in  silence  and  then 
Sadie  suddenly  exclaimed: 

"  Oh,  if  you'd  only  seen  her !  "  There  were  tears  in 
her  voice  now.  "  Her  poor,  painted  face  was  so  pathetic. 
She  looked  like  a  little  scared  rabbit."  Her  tone  changed ; 
leaning  toward  him,  she  said :  "  If  you'd  been  in  my 
place  and  she'd  asked  you  to  help  her,  would  you  have 
turned  her  down  ?  Would  you,  Billy  ?  " 

"  That'd  been  different,"  was  his  weak  reply.  "  You're 
a  girl." 

"What  of  that?"  she  retorted  sharply.  "Ain't  that 
all  the  more  reason  I  ought  to  have  helped  her  ?  " 

Billy  was  uncomfortable ;  he  felt  that  she  was  making 
him  appear  pitifully  small  in  his  own  eyes. 

"  There  ain't  many  women  that  would,"  he  insisted 
doggedly. 

1 02 


Sadie  Intervenes 


"  I  know  that,"  was  her  quick  reply,  as  with  a  toss 
of  her  head  she  straightened  in  the  saddle.  "  I've  seen 
'em  hold  their  skirts  away  when  they  passed  girls  like 
Allie.  And  generally  those  that  do  are  worse  than  the 
girls  themselves,  only  they  don't  know  it,  the  poor 
fools !  " 

Billy  glanced  up ;  Sadie  was  staring  straight  ahead  at 
nothing. 

"  I  guess  you're  different  from  most  women,"  he 
observed  after  a  moment. 

She  turned  to  him  then  and  he  saw  how  bright  her 
eyes  were. 

"  I  hope  to  God  I  am ! "  she  exclaimed  passion- 
ately. 

"  You  are,"  he  nodded,  and  a  thin  smile  bent  his  lips. 

"  I've  always  been,"  she  went  on  quietly.  "  Maybe 
it's  because  I've  had  to  be.  And  all  my  life  I've  done 
just  the  opposite,  usually,  from  what  other  girls  would 
do.  I  guess  I'm  mostly  man." 

She  spoke  the  last  with  a  note  of  wistful  regret  in 
her  voice,  and  let  fall  her  eyes. 

"  No,  you  ain't,"  Thompson  contradicted  with  vehe- 
mence. "  You're  just  a  girl,  after  all ;  only,  Sadie  " — he 
leaned  toward  her — "  you're  the  right  sort — and  they 
ain't  common." 

"  Thanks  Billy."     She  laughed  lightly. 

"  It's  always  been  Johnny  on  the  spot  with  me,"  she 

declared  presently.     "  Usually  I  don't  lose  any  sleep  over 

results.     I  just  do  a  thing  and  let  'er  go  at  that.     Oh,  I 

know  it's  wrong,"  she  made  haste  to  add,  "  but  somehow 

8  103 


Sadie 

I  don't  seem  able  to  help  it.  It  was  like  that  to-night — 
with  Lawton,  I  mean.  If  he'd  landed  on  Allie  it  would 
have  been  all  day  with  her.  Poor,  skairt  little  thing; 
she  couldn't  put  up  a  fight.  There  wasn't  anybody  else, 
so  I  had  to  sail  in.  Only,"  she  concluded  hesitatingly, 
"  I  didn't  figure  it  all  out  like  that  before  I  did  it. 
Billy  " — her  eyes,  calmly  frank  now,  met  his — "  would 
you  believe  it  if  I  told  you  that  back  in  Kansas  City,  just 
before  I  pulled  freight  for  out  here,  I  could  have  killed 
a  man —  and  been  glad  of  it  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  If  I'd  stayed  on  there,"  she  added,  "  I'd  have  done 
it;  that's  why  I  came." 

"  I  guess  I  understand,"  he  murmured  as  his  eyes 
lost  hers,  "  I  guess  I  do." 

She  caught  up  the  rein.  "  Oh,  don't  let's  talk  about 
such  stuff  any  more ! "  she  cried.  "  Billy,  tell  me  who 
is  Curly  Watrous  ?  " 

The  sudden  change  in  her  manner  was  startling,  and 
Billy  smiled  quizzically. 

"  He's  one  of  the  Bar  Y  outfit,"  he  told  her.  "  I  ran 
up  against  him  at  Cottonwood  once.  He  left  for  the 
North  to-night;  going  to  take  a  shot  at  prospecting 
for  a  couple  of  months.  I  was  telling  him  about 
Rowley." 

"  Does  he  come  from  'round  here  ?  "  Sadie  asked. 

"Who?" 

"  Curly — I  mean  Watrous." 

"  I  guess  so;  why?" 

"  Nothing.     I  just  wondered ;  that's  all." 
104 


Sadie   Intervenes 


She  spoke  to  the  pony  and  its  canter  quickened. 

"  Slim  Everett  had  a  message  for  me  from  Al 
Tunnison,"  Billy  announced,  after  a  space. 

Sadie  recalled  having  heard  Tunnison  referred  to  as 
the  proprietor  of  the  Palace  Hotel  at  Cottonwood. 

"  What  does  he  want  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Girl." 

"  What?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Just  that ;  a  girl.  His  girl's  got  married,  like  most 
of  'em  do  down  here,  and  seems  he's  having  a  devil  of  a 
time  locating  another.  Wants  me  to  find  him  one  if 
I  can." 

"  They  ain't  any  too  thick,  are  they  ?  "  Sadie  mused 
aloud. 

"Thick!"  Billy  was  staring  at  her.  "Thick! 
Good  Lord,  they're  scarcer'n  snowstorms  in  Death 
Valley ! " 

She  laughed. 

"  I'll  have  to  see  Skinny  about  it,"  he  added.  "  He 
knows  the  location  of  every  piece  of  calico  in  the  Terri- 
tory." 

After  that  they  rode  a  long  distance  without  speaking. 
The  desert,  taking  on  the  quality  of  the  shimmering  moon- 
light, trembled  about  them.  The  ridges  of  the  low-lying 
buttes  were  silvered  like  the  crests  of  waves,  frozen  as 
they  tumbled.  Above,  the  glittering,  icy  star  points 
rioted  in  the  soft  sky;  and  the  silence  was  the  silence 
of  a  dead,  deserted  land,  in  which  they  and  the  horses 
that  they  rode  were  the  only  breathing  things.  Again, 
something  of  the  weird  mystery  of  the  desert  night  crept 

105 


Sadie 

unbidden  into  Sadie's  heart,  and  suddenly,  so  suddenly 
that  Billy  started: 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  I  love  it — how  I  love  it, 
out  here !  "  she  cried. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  he  asked  gently.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  ran  on  impulsively,  "  I  guess  may- 
be because  it's  so  free,  and  so  big,  and  so  clean.  There's 
room  to  move  and  stretch  in.  I  feel  it  most  at  night. 
I  don't  know  how  many  times  I've  got  up  and  sat  by 
the  window  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  and  waited  for  the 
moon  to  rise  'way  out  there,  across  the  tracks !  And 
I  guess  the  people  have  got  a  lot  to  do  with  it,  too. 
They're  different  out  here.  They're  on  the  level;  and 
that's  the  kind  I  like." 

Billy  laughed.  "Yes,"  he  agreed  dryly,  "they're 
all  right  as  long  as  they're  here,  but  the  minute  they  cross 
the  Missouri,  headed  East,  they're  the  damnedest  liars  on 
earth." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care  what  they  do  or  say  back  there," 
Sadie  exclaimed,  undistressed  by  his  careless  use  of  the 
emphatic  adjective.  "  It's  what  they  are  here — here  where 
I  am — that  counts — with  me." 

Crossing  the  tracks  ten  minutes  later,  they  saw  twin- 
kling out  at  them  through  a  window  of  the  eating  house 
a  beam  of  yellow  light  from  the  low-burning  lamp  over 
the  lunch  counter. 

"  Looks  cheerful,  don't  it,"  Billy  muttered  under  his 
breath. 

"  Is  Charley  there,  do  you  suppose  ?  "  Sadie  ventured. 

"  Not  on  your  life,"  was  his  decisive  reply.  "  I  told 
106 


Sadie  Intervenes 


him  he  could  close  up  at  midnight.  He's  probably  dally- 
ing with  the  Blind  Goddess  over't  the  '  Monte.'  Char- 
ley'll  filter  out  of  his  job,  one  of  these  days,  if  he  ain't 
careful,"  he  added  sourly. 

Riding  up  to  the  door  he  struck  it  smartly  with  the 
butt  of  his  quirt.  There  was  no  response  from  within. 
Through  the  window  Sadie  saw  the  glint  of  the  lamp- 
light on  the  glassware  of  the  counter,  but  the  corners 
of  the  room  were  deep  in  shadow. 

"  Where's  my  key,"  Billy  grumbled,  fumbling  be- 
neath his  coat.  "  Blame  this  thing,"  he  exclaimed,  and 
unbuckled  his  belt.  "  If  you  don't  mind,"  he  added, 
looking  back,  "  will  you  wait  here  while  I  put  up  the 
horses  ?  " 

"  Sure  I  will,"  Sadie  replied,  and  quickly  dismounted. 

He  handed  down  to  her  the  key  and  his  revolver.  "  I'd 
be  a  little  careful  of  the  cannon ;  it's  loaded  for  bear,"  he 
warned. 

"  You  needn't  worry,"  she  assured  him,  "  I'll  lay  it 
on  the  counter  and  sit  in  a  corner." 

He  caught  up  the  rein  of  her  pony  then,  and  as  she 
opened  the  door  she  heard  the  hoof-crunch  of  the  cinders 
as  they  moved  away.  Turning  up  the  wick  of  the  lamp 
she  deposited  the  gun,  still  in  its  holster  of  carved  Mexi- 
can leather,  on  the  counter  at  the  side  of  a  glass  bell 
protecting  a  pyramid  of  dry  "  exhibition  "  doughnuts, 
as  Billy  called  them.  On  the  table,  where  the  cook  had 
left  it,  lay  the  "  Magazine  Supplement "  of  a  recent  San 
Francisco  Sunday  paper.  The  hands  of  the  octagonal- 
faced  clock,  ticking  loudly  in  the  silence  against  the  wall 

107 


Sadie 

under  the  stairs,  indicated  one-fifteen.  No.  6,  westbound, 
Sadie  calculated,  would  pass  in  thirty-six  minutes. 
Drawing  a  chair  under  the  lamp  she  opened  the  paper 
and  glanced  indifferently  over  the  smeary  illustrations. 
A  sensationally  written  article — embellished  with  draw- 
ings of  a  number  of  wiggly  things — concerning  the  ex- 
periments  of  an  unheard-of  French  scientist  toward  an 
artificial  production  of  life,  did  not  attract  her.  A  brief, 
but  none  the  less  detailed  description  of  a  trousseau  with 
which  any  bride  to  be  might  provide  herself  at  a  maximum 
cost  of  sixty-nine  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  was  more 
interesting,  and  Sadie  read  it  through.  Finishing  the 
article  she  became  conscious  that  she  was  sleepy,  and 
yawned  luxuriously.  She  folded  the  paper  and,  rising, 
laid  it  on  the  counter.  As  she  did  so  her  eyes  chanced 
to  fall  upon  the  revolver  where  it  lay  beside  the  bell 
glass.  The  lamplight  twinkled  on  the  tip  of  the  blue- 
steel  barrel  projecting  from  the  tube  of  the  holster,  and 
the  pearl  handle  shone  with  an  opalescent  luster.  The 
cowboy  whom  Billy  had  pointed  out  to  her  across  the 
hall,  back  in  San  Luis,  had  worn  a  gun  with  a  pearl 
handle,  she  remembered.  She  had  seen  it  shine  in  the 
light  as  he  sat  on  the  table  watching  the  dancers.  And 
his  face,  smiling  as  it  was  then,  appeared  before  her  now. 
She  closed  her  eyes  and  a  little  expression  of  wistful- 
ness  bent  her  lips. 

She  recalled  the  day,  three  months  before,  when  Billy, 
with  considerable  pride,  had  explained  to  her  the  mechan- 
ism of  his  "  cannon  "  as  he  always  called  it.  Afterwards, 
from  the  mesa  top  she  had  pointed  it  off  to  the  east  and 

108 


Sadie  Intervenes 


pulled  the  trigger.     She  could  still  hear  its  thunderous 
report  and  Billy's  laughing  declaration: 

"If  some  guy  back  in  Kansas  City  drops  dead  in  a 
few  minutes  with  a  hole  in  his  think  tank,  you'll  be  to 
blame." 

He  had  taken  the  weapon  then  and  taught  her  how  to 
load  it. 

"  It's  just  as  well  to  know  how  to  handle  one,"  he 
had  said. 

Now,  she  wondered  if  there  would  ever  come  a  time 
when  she  would  rejoice  to  feel  the  cold  touch  of  the 
fireshot  pearl  handle  against  her  palm.  Cautiously  she 
drew  the  gun  from  its  holster  and  examined  it  under 
the  lamp.  She  was  conscious  that  it  had  lost  nothing 
in  weight  since  that  day  on  the  mesa.  Instinctively  her 
hand  closed  around  the  grip  and  her  forefinger  rested 
gently  against  the  trigger.  Then,  extending  her  arm 
she  shut  one  eye,  as  she  had  seen  Billy  do,  and  sighted 
along  the  barrel  at  a  spot  on  the  further  wall.  But  for 
the  rush  of  feet  outside  at  that  instant  she  would,  by  the 
very  fascination  of  the  thing,  have  been  irresistibly  im- 
pelled to  fire.  As  it  was,  however,  she  snatched  up  the 
folded  paper,  and  flirting  it  out,  thrust  the  gun  beneath 
it,  just  as  the  girl  Allie  rushed  breathlessly  upon  her. 

"  He's  coming !  "  she  cried,  "  he's  coming — for  Mr. 
Thompson."  She  slammed  shut  the  door  and  shot  the 
bolt.  "  Pull — pull  down  those  curtains !  "  As  one  in 
a  dream  Sadie  obeyed. 

Allie  had  sunk  weakly  upon  a  chair,  but  now  with 
reviving  strength  she  ran  on  hysterically: 

109 


Sadie 

"  I  heard  him  loading  his  gun.  He  didn't  know.  I 
ran  out  the  back  way.  He  kept  mumbling  to  himself. 
Oh,  he'd  kill  me  if  he  knew."  Suddenly  her  trembling 
ceased.  Wide-eyed  she  looked  around  her.  "  Where  is 
Mr.  Thompson  ?  "  she  whined. 

Sadie,  standing  at  the  end  of  the  counter,  one  hand 
clutching  the  rail,  had  only  half  heard  her. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  cried.  "He's  out  there! 
He  doesn't  know !  How  can  I  warn  him  ?  " 

Her  bloodless  face  was  drawn  and  haggard;  the 
violet-veined  lips  drooped  over  her  eyes  and  her  throat 
trembled.  Allie,  leaning  forward,  stared  at  her,  marvel- 
ing at  what  she  took  to  be  her  calmness,  but  which  was 
nothing  less  than  freezing  terror.  And  then  Sadie's 
frightened  eyes  took  note  of  the  little  hump  in  the  paper 
lying  on  the  counter,  made  by  the  gun  beneath.  With 
lightning  quickness  she  snatched  up  the  weapon  and  ran 
to  the  stairs. 

"  Come,"  she  called,  "  up  above — with  me." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  wailed  the  tawdry 
creature  behind  her. 

At  the  top  Sadie  turned  upon  her  sharply.  "  Never 
mind,"  she  snapped.  "  Go  in  there  and  shut  the  door. 
Don't  make  a  sound." 

Meekly  Allie  obeyed,  and  Sadie,  the  gun  tight  clutched 
in  her  hand,  crept  forward  down  the  corridor.  From  one 
side  of  the  open  window  at  the  end  of  the  hall  she  looked 
down  upon  the  siding,  and  the  light  in  her  watching  eyes 
was  such  a  light  as  men  have  died  to  see  in  the  eyes  of  the 
women  whom  they  love.  Once,  to-night,  Billy  had  come 

no 


Sadie  Intervenes 


to  her  assistance  at  the  blackest  moment  she  had  ever 
known,  and  now  beside  the  window,  waiting,  watching, 
she  only  hoped  that  she  might  be  of  help  to  him  as  he 
had  been  to  her.  "  If  he  is  the  first  to  reach  the  door 
below,"  she  thought,  and  a  little  prayer  sprang  from 
her  heart: 

"  O  God,  let  him !  "  she  murmured. 

And  then  upon  her  straining  ears  sounded  the  crunch 
of  the  cinders  beneath  a  tread  that  she  knew  was  not  the 
tread  of  Billy.  Her  heart  fell  lead-like  in  her  bosom. 
Brushing  the  back  of  an  icy  hand  across  her  eyes  she 
leaned  forward.  As  she  did  so  Lawton  staggered  around 
the  end  of  the  station  and  advanced  upon  the  door,  the 
moonlight  flickering  on  the  revolver  in  his  hand.  Sadie 
realized  that  the  instant  had  arrived  for  her  to  act.  Sink- 
ing upon  her  knees  at  the  open  window,  she  thrust  her 
weapon  across  the  sill  and  covered  the  unsuspecting  man 
below.  As  he  lifted  his  empty  hand  to  try  the  door  her 
sharp  cry  cut  the  silence: 

"  Drop  that  gun !     Drop  it ! " 

Drunk  as  he  was  Lawton  realized  the  futility  of 
resistance  in  the  face  of  such  a  command.  His  fingers 
almost  automatically  relaxed  their  grip  upon  the  weapon 
and  it  fell  to  his  feet. 

He  drew  back  from  the  door  then  and  stared  about 
him. 

"  Where  are  yeh  ?  "  he  called.  "  Why  don't  yeh  show 
yerself?" 

Unconsciously  he  looked  up.  His  eyes  bulging  from 
their  sockets  fixed  themselves  upon  the  dipping  barrel  of 

in 


Sadie 

the  gun.  He  saw  nothing  of  Sadie,  nothing  even  of  her 
arm;  he  saw  only  a  white  hand  firmly  clutching  a  .45 
trained  upon  himself.  Something  in  the  unwonted  oddity 
of  the  situation  appealed  to  him,  befuddled  as  his  senses 
were,  and  loud  enough  for  Sadie  to  hear : 

"  I'll  be  damned,"  he  exclaimed. 

But  none  the  less  the  purpose  of  that  white  hand  and 
the  gun  it  held  was  not  lost  upon  him,  and  he  made  no 
effort  to  recover  his  own  weapon  from  where  it  lay  on 
the  cinders  at  his  feet. 

Thus  it  was  that  Billy  Thompson  discovered  him  as 
he  came  whistling  around  the  corner  of  the  station  five 
minutes  later.  At  sight  of  the  motionless  figure,  its 
eyes  fixed  on  the  upper  window,  Billy  stopped  short  and 
stared.  Then,  clearly  calm,  a  soft  voice  called  down  to 
him: 

"  It's  all  right,  Billy ;  I've  got  him  covered.  He  came 
to  get  you.  That's  his  gun." 

"  Sadie !  "  Billy  cried. 

Upon  the  slow  working  mind  of  Lawton  there  dawned 
the  meaning  of  the  extraordinary  predicament  in  which 
he  found  himself. 

"  I'll  be  damned,"  he  muttered  again  in  a  tone 
of  wondering  awe.  "  Stuck  up  by  a  girl !  I'll  be 
damned!" 

Billy  quickly  recovered  Lawton's  revolver. 

"It's  all  right,  Sadie,"  he  called.  "I've  got  him. 
You  can  come  down  now  and  open  the  door." 

He  heard  the  patter  of  her  feet  as  she  crossed  the 
bare  floor  of  the  lunch  room;  the  rasp  of  the  bolt,  and 


v 


"Lawton  staggered  around  the  end  of  the  station 
revolver  in  his  hand." 


Sadie  Intervenes 


the  next  instant  the  door  was  flung  back  and  she  came 
forth  into  the  moonlight. 

"  There  she  is,  Red,"  Billy  sneered,  "  there's  the  girl 
that's  put  a  couple  of  crimps  in  you  to-night.  But  she 
ain't  going  to  have  the  trouble  of  doing  it  any  more. 
Gimme  that  gun !  " 

Sadie  handed  it  over  to  him  without  speaking.  With 
a  quick  motion  he  "  broke  "  Lawton's  weapon  and  empty- 
ing the  cartridges  into  his  hand  flung  them  far  out  across 
the  tracks. 

"  Well,  what  you  goin'  t'  do  'bout  it  ? "  Lawton 
growled. 

"  I'm  going  to  give  you  the  can,  Reddy,"  was  the 
calm  reply.  "  It's  been  coming  to  you  for  a  long  time. 
To-night  you're  going  to  get  it." 

As  he  spoke  the  figure  of  a  man  appeared  on  the  siding 
at  the  end  of  the  station. 

"That  you,  Harry?"  Thompson  called. 

Robinson  came  quickly  forward.  Questioningly,  he 
glanced  from  Lawton  to  the  girl  in  the  doorway. 

"  Don't  stop  to  ask  questions,"  was  Billy's  sharp  com- 
mand. "  Get  on  the  wire,  get  Hank  Houston  at  Cotton- 
wood." 

"The  sheriff?"  the  operator  gasped. 

"  Yes ;  hurry  up ;  No.  6  will  be  here  in  six  minutes 
and  Reddy  don't  want  to  miss  it.  Reddy's  going  to  take 
a  little  trip ;  ain't  you,  Reddy  ?  " 

Lawton,  leaning  carelessly  against  the  wall,  his  hands 
thrust  deep  in  his  pockets  and  the  brim  of  his  hat  pulled 
low  across  his  eyes,  made  no  reply. 

"3 


Sadie 

Robinson  raised  the  window  in  his  little  boxlike  office. 
A  moment  later  the  click  of  the  telegraph  key  sounded 
sharp  and  clear. 

"  All  ready,"  he  announced. 

"  Hank  Houston,  Sheriff,  Cottonwood."  Billy  enunci- 
ated each  word  with  keen  precision.  "Am  giving  Red 
Lawton  the  can."  He  stopped.  "Got  it?"  he  called. 

"  Yes,"  came  from  the  table  over  which  Robinson 
bent,  his  finger  trembling  on  the  clicking  key.  "  He  leaves 
on  No.  6  in  four  minutes.  Got  that  ?  "  The  dick-click- 
click-cUckety  of  the  instrument  was  the  only  sound,  save 
the  deep  breathing  of  the  tortured  Lawton. 

"All  right,"  Robinson  replied. 

"  He  tried  to  get  me.  Just  thought  I'd  let  you 
know." 

"  O.  K.,"  came  presently  out  to  him  through  the 
window. 

"  Sign  it  '  Billy  Thompson,'  "  he  ordered,  "  and  let'er 
go." 

Off  in  the  east  a  long  whistle,  thrice  repeated,  shivered 
the  night. 

"  Now  do  you  get  it,  Reddy  ?  "  Thompson  asked  as  the 
rails  in  front  of  him  reflected  the  glimmer  of  the  distant 
headlight.  A  sullen  growl  was  the  only  response. 

"  Face  that  tank ! "  The  command  was  sharp  and 
decisive.  Lawton  obeyed,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  March !  "  and  he  slouched  off  down  the  siding. 

The  long  train,  the  curtained  windows  of  the  Pull- 
mans gleaming  black  in  the  moonlight,  rushed  upon  them 
and  stopped.  From  the  forward  platform  of  the  smoker 

114 


Sadie  Intervenes 


the  conductor  descended.  Billy  called  to  him  and  in  a 
sentence  explained  the  situation. 

"  Get  aboard,"  he  ordered  Lawton  then.  With  a 
snarl  as  of  an  animal  goaded  beyond  endurance  the 
latter  swung  suddenly  about  with  upraised  arms.  But 
his  huge  hands  fell  limply  as  his  eyes  focused  on  the 
muzzle  of  Thompson's  gun,  and  he  heard  the  quiet 
reproof : 

"  No,  you  don't,  Reddy ;  I  was  looking  for  that.  Get 
aboard,  I  tell  you ! " 

Hopelessly  he  obeyed. 

Save  for  the  news  butcher,  asleep  with  his  feet  on 
his  basket,  the  smoker  was  deserted.  Lawton  was  driven 
to  a  seat  midway  down  the  car.  As  he  sank  upon  the 
cushion  he  lifted  his  eyes  and  for  the  first  time  to-night 
they  met  Thompson's  squarely.  But  he  did  not  speak. 

"  Now,  Reddy,  just  a  word."  There  was  not  much 
time  and  Billy  ran  on  rapidly. 

"Al  Thayre's  the  conductor  of  this  train  and  he's  a 
friend  of  mine.  He's  got  your  gun.  He'll  slow  down 
at  Mercedes  and  you  can  get  off  or  be  thrown  off,  just 
as  you  please;  that's  fifty  miles  away.  He'll  give  you 
your  gun  if  he  don't  forget  it.  Bagdad  ain't  big  enough 
for  all  of  us,  and  I  ain't  going  to  leave  for  some  time. 
You  know  what'll  happen  to  you  down  't  Mercedes  if 
you  try  any  of  your  flossy  work  there.  When  they  give 
you  a  free  ride  out  of  that  town  it'll  be  in  the  baggage 
car  and  you'll  be  layin'  down.  Understand  ?  " 

Up  ahead  the  engine  bell  clanged.  Thompson  backed 
slowly  down  the  aisle. 


Sadie 

"  Good-by,"  he  called  from  the  platform  and  clutching 
the  rail  swung  himself  from  the  moving  train  directly 
in  front  of  the  eating-house  door. 

Sadie  was  still  there,  talking  to  Robinson. 

"  It  must  be  getting  late,"  Thompson  observed  as  he 
came  up  to  them.  "  Guess  I'll  get  to  bed." 

The  hint  was  sufficient  for  the  operator.  "  Good- 
night," he  said  with  a  chuckle.  "  It  was  a  good  job, 
Billy." 

Thompson  followed  Sadie  into  the  lunch  room. 

"Who  put  you  wise  to  what  he  was  up  to?"  he 
asked.  From  the  foot  of  the  stairs  she  turned  and  their 
eyes  met  in  the  lamplight  across  the  counter. 

"Allie,"  she  replied,  and  looked  down. 

With  great  deliberation  Billy  closed  the  door  and 
locked  it. 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  raised  the  shade 
at  the  front  window. 

"  Upstairs.     She's  going  to  stay  with  me." 

He  did  not  look  at  her,  waiting  for  his  word  of  re- 
proof, as  he  turned  down  the  light. 

"  You  can  tell  her  if  you  want  to,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  that  Lawton  ain't  likely  to  bother  her  any  more — nor 
Bagdad  either.  That's  all." 

She  wished  that  he  would  only  look  at  her,  that  he 
might  read  in  her  eyes,  at  least,  the  gratitude  that  she 
could  not  express  in  words,  but  he  did  not  so  much  as 
glance  at  her  again. 

"  Good-night,"  she  bade  him,  and  wearily  mounted  the 
stairs. 

116 


Sadie  Intervenes 


Later,  Billy  fell  asleep  to  the  sound  of  low-voiced 
conversation  in  Sadie's  room.  Awakening  early  he 
turned,  and  raising  himself  upon  one  elbow,  gazed  out 
the  window  into  the  morning's  shining  face.  From  below 
came  the  sound  of  clattering  dishes  in  the  kitchen;  then 
the  slam  of  the  back  door.  A  moment  later  he  saw  the 
slight  figure  of  a  girl  in  a  tawdry  tinsel  costume,  pitifully 
garish  in  the  light  of  day,  speeding  across  Main  Street, 
and  at  sight  of  her,  a  frown  gathered  in  his  eyes.  He 
kicked  away  the  gray  blanket  angrily.  Sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed  he  bent  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands.  Sadie  was  singing  in  the  lunch 
room  below.  Lifting  his  head,  Billy  listened,  smiling. 
Then,  suddenly,  he  sat  upright  and  pulled  a  long  breath, 
and,  brushing  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  murmured: 
"What's  the  use?  What's  the  use  ?  "—hopelessly. 


CHAPTER   X 

AN    EXCHANGE   OF   CONFIDENCES 

AFTER  breakfast  Billy  accompanied  Skinny  Mc- 
Gregor to  the  latter's  tent  where  he  remained 
until  shortly  before  noon.  Thereafter,  until  Charley  an- 
nounced dinner,  Sadie  heard  him  in  his  room.  It  was 
apparent  to  her  that  he  had  taken  this  means  of  avoiding 
her  and  frustrating  any  attempt  on  her  part  to  speak  to 
him  in  any  sense  privately.  She  had  a  great  deal  to  say 
to  him;  and  what  she  would  say  concerned  chiefly  the 
girl  whom  he  had  seen  fleeing  across  Main  Street  before 
Bagdad — and  Bagdad  did  not  sleep  late — had  aroused 
itself  for  the  day.  However,  she  did  not  intend  to  per- 
mit him  to  escape,  and  therefore,  after  dinner,  she  seated 
herself  at  one  of  the  tables  in  the  lunch  room,  and  pro- 
ceeded patiently  to  polish  the  silverware  with  which  it  was 
furnished.  A  little  after  three  o'clock  she  had  the  satis- 
faction of  hearing  the  door  of  Billy's  room  creak  and 
his  footfalls  in  the  corridor.  As  he  appeared  at  the  top 
of  the  narrow  stairs  she  looked  up,  smiling.  Perhaps  it 
was  her  smile  that  reassured  him,  for  he  came  slowly 
down.  He  was  in  riding  clothes,  and  his  wide-brimmed 
gray  hat,  she  observed,  was  quite  fresh.  His  shirt,  of 
which  she  was  permitted  a  glimpse  at  the  throat  opening 

118 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

of  his  khaki  coat,  was  more  dazzling  than  any  he  had 
worn  before. 

"  Can  I  speak  to  you  a  minute  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little 
fearfully,  perhaps,  for  Billy  thus  arrayed  was  in  a  sense 
an  imposing  figure.  A  frown  swept  across  his  brow  as 
she  spoke,  and  perceiving  it  her  own  eyes  twitched.  But 
his  answer  was  reassuring. 

"Sure;  what  is  it?" 

He  came  around  in  front  of  the  counter,  wiping  his 
hands  on  a  blue-checked  handkerchief. 

"  Were  you  going  anywhere  ? "  she  inquired  as  he 
drew  out  a  chair  opposite  her. 

"  Nowhere  'special,"  was  his  indefinite  reply. 

Sadie  put  aside  the  chamois  and  the  box  of  silver 
polish  with  deliberation. 

"  Promise  not  to  cut  in  till  I'm  through  ?  "  she  said. 

He  smiled  quizzically  and  a  sigh  of  relief  escaped  her. 

"  Is  it  as  serious  as  all  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  about  Allie,"  she  declared  frankly,  and  let  fall 
her  eyes.  She  did  not  observe  Billy's  impatient  move, 
nor  the  sneer  that  bent  his  lips,  but  as  he  started  to  speak 
she  looked  up  quickly. 

"  You  ain't  going  to  interrupt,  you  know,"  she  re- 
minded him. 

What  he  would  have  said  died  on  his  lips  and  he 
nodded. 

"  She  and  I  had  a  long  talk  last  night,"  Sadie  went 
on.  "  Sire  told  me  all  about  it." 

Billy's  contemptuous  smile  annoyed  her,  but  she  con- 
tinued with  a  faint  note  of  reproof  in  her  voice : 
9  119 


Sadie 

"  Please  don't  look  like  that.  She's  not  so  bad — 
really — after  all."  She  hesitated.  Producing  "  the 
makin's  "  Billy  proceeded  with  calm  indifference  to  roll 
a  cigarette. 

"And  maybe  if  she'd  talked  to  you,  like  she  did  to 
me,"  Sadie  continued,  "  you'd  feel  like  I  do  about  her. 
No,  she  didn't  lie,"  she  quickly  declared,  meeting  the 
look  of  questioning  doubt  in  his  eyes.  "  Girls  can't  lie 
to  me — Billy.  I  know  when  they're  doing  it  every  time. 
And  she  didn't  cry  neither.  She  just  talked.  And  she 
was  as  calm  as  I  am  this  minute.  Don't  you  suppose  I 
know  ?  "  Sadie  gave  her  pompadour  a  little  upward  toss, 
meant  to  dispel  any  doubt  he  might  have  of  her  deeper 
understanding  of  wayward  femininity. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  her  ? "  she  asked, 
"  except  what  you've  seen  here'n  Bagdad  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head,  and  contemplated  the  glowing  end 
of  his  cigarette. 

"  Just  think  of  it !  She's  only  twenty,"  Sadie  ex- 
claimed. "  She's  three  years  younger'n  I  am ;  and  she 
don't  know  a  tenth  as  much,  if  I  do  say  itf  She's  just  a 
kid,  Billy.  Why,  good  Lord,  she  ain't  had  time  to  be 
all  lost — yet!  Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  you're  going  to 
say,  she's  got  a  flying  start  and  all  that,  but  Billy  " — 
she  leaned  toward  him,  across  the  table — "  it  ain't  too  late 
now  if  you'll  only  do  it" 

Thompson  stared  hard  at  her. 

"  Her  mother  died  when  she  was  fourteen,"  Sadie 
went  on,  unconsciously  following  with  a  finger  the  flower 
pattern  in  the  tablecloth.  "  Maybe  you  know  what  it 

1 20 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

means  when  a  girl  that  age  loses  her  mother,  'specially 
when  the  old  man's  all  to  the  bad  from  booze.  Why, 
Allie's  grown  up  out  here'n  the  desert  just  like  a  cactus. 
Is  it  any  wonder?  The  way  she's  carried  on,  I  mean? 
If  you'd  been  a  girl  like  that,  Billy  Thompson,  you'd 
have  done  the  same,  and  so  would  I ! " 

He  would  have  spoken  again,  but  Sadie  held  up  her 
hand.  "  Listen.  I  know  you  think  it's  funny  for  me 
to  care  anything  about  her,  but  I  do.  Men  never  do; 
they  can't  help  girls — like  Allie,  I  mean.  And  women 
won't  as  a  general  thing.  Nobody  can,  really,  I  guess, 
but  just  another  girl — one  that  understands.  That's  what 
always  used  to  make  me  sore  on  the  church  folks  back 
East.  I've  seen  'em  work.  Some  nice,  near-sighted  old 
gentleman  with  scrawny  side-whiskers  would  say  '  Oh ' 
and  'Ah  '  to  a  girl  and  quote  from  the  Bible.  What  does 
a  girl  like  Allie  know  'bout  the  Bible?  What  does  she 
want  to  know  'bout  the  Bible?  What's  the  Bible  got  to 
do  with  it  anyway?  She  can't  eat  it,  can  she?  And 
then  I've  seen  nice  old  ladies  in  spectacles  come  along 
holding  their  skirts  back  and  pat  girls  on  the  head  and 
tell  'em  fairy  stories  and  give  'em  a  tract!  That  helps 
a  lot  now,  don't  it?  Do  you  know  what  Allie'd  do  with 
a  tract?  She'd  make  curl  papers  out  of  it.  And  so 
would  I.  What  a  girl  that's  down  wants  is  the  sympathy 
of  another  girl;  one  that  would  be  down  herself  if  she 
hadn't  just  been  lucky,  to  show  her  the  way  up — like  only 
a  girl  can.  That's  why  I  took  Allie  in  last  night  and 
talked  to  her.  We  didn't  bawl  over  it;  you  didn't  hear 
any  sobbing,  did  you?  I  didn't  read  the  riot  act  to  her 

121 


Sadie 

either.  We  just  talked  low  and  earnest,  and  then  we 
went  to  sleep — "  There  came  a  little  catch  in  her  voice 
and  she  dropped  her  eyes — "  with  our  arms  around  each 
other." 

Turning,  Billy  stared  out  through  the  window,  into 
the  desert's  dusty  face. 

"And  it's  because  I  know  Allie's  got  a  chance  that 
I  wanted  to  talk  to  you,"  Sadie  was  saying.  "All  she 
needed  was  a  hunch.  I  gave  it  to  her.  I'm  a  girl,  Billy, 
and  I  know."  Then,  drawing  a  long  breath :  "  Billy," 
she  said,  "  can't  you  send  her  to  Mr.  Tunnison,  up  at 
Cottonwood?  He  wants  a  girl.  I  told  Allie  I'd  ask 
you." 

Breathlessly  she  hung  upon  his  answer.  At  his  hesi- 
tation her  heart  dropped.  Then  his  eyes  met  hers  and 
smiled  into  them. 

"  Sadie  " — leaning  forward,  one  of  his  hands  closed 
over  one  of  hers  where  it  lay  on  the  table — "  Sadie,  do 
you  think  there's  anything  anybody  wouldn't  do  for  you, 
if  you  wanted  'em  to  ?  " 

At  the  moment  the  deeper  meaning  of  his  question 
was  lost  upon  her.  Drawing  her  hand  from  under  his : 

"  You  will  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Sure !  "  He  flicked  his  half-burned  cigarette  through 
the  open  window. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  O  Billy !  "  she  cried,  "  I'm 
so  glad  I  could  kiss  you ! " 

He  forced  a  laugh  at  that  and  looked  away. 

"And  Allie  wants  you  to  tell  him  all  about  it,"  she 
ran  on.  "Will  you?" 

122 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

"  Yes,"  he  promised.  "  It'll  be  all  right  with  Tun- 
nison,"  he  assured  her,  "  I  know  him.  He's  one  of  the 
best  there  is  out  here.  When  can  she  go  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  To-day.  I'm  going  over  to  tell  her  now."  And  be- 
fore he  could  restrain  her  she  had  snatched,  up  her  sun- 
bonnet  from  where  it  lay  at  the  end  of  the  counter  and 
run  out  upon  the  siding.  He  sent  a  telegram  to  Tunnison 
then,  and  that  same  afternoon  joined  Sadie  on  the  siding 
as  No.  2  pulled  in.  Together  they  waved  "  Good-by  " 
to  Allie  who  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  "  free  chair 
car." 

"  Did  you  see  she  didn't  have  any  paint  on  ?  "  Sadie 
asked  as  they  walked  back  to  the  eating  house.  "  I 
made  her  throw  it  away." 

"  I  ought  to  have  told  Tunnison  in  that  letter  I  gave 
her,"  Billy  declared,  "  that  if  anything  happens,  you're 
to  blame." 

"  But  there  won't  anything  happen,"  she  assured  him. 

At  the  end  of  the  counter  in  the  lunch  room  he  turned, 
to  her  and  said : 

"  It  was  game  of  you  to  do  what  you  did  last  night 
I  wasn't  going  to  say " 

"  You  needn't,"  she  interrupted  him,  as  the  color  came 
into  her  cheeks.  "  But  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him 
when  I  told  him  to  drop  the  gun.  I  guess  he  thought  it 
was  an  angel  holding  him  up." 

"  It  was !  "  With  which  declaration  Billy  ran  swiftly 
up  the  stairs  to  his  room,  leaving  Sadie  staring  after  him, 
too  dazed  to  reply. 

Thus  it  was  that  Reddy  Lawton,  imitation  badman, 
123 


Sadie 

and  his  one-time  girl,  deserted  Bagdad,  by  differing,  but 
equally  effective  means,  nor  did  Bagdad  mourn. 

Much  to  Sadie's  embarrassment — real  embarrassment, 
it  may  be  said  in  passing — her  adventure  at  Gonzales's, 
and  later  her  exploit  at  the  eating  house  became  common 
knowledge  among  the  residents  of  the  desert  town.  She 
was  confident  that  Billy  had  said  nothing,  nor  had  he, 
but  by  that  wireless  telegraphy  which  cuts  and  crosses  the 
most  desolate  places  the  story  passed  up  and  down  the 
Territory.  Sadie  was,  in  a  measure,  sure  that  Robinson 
had  told  of  the  episode  at  the  station,  though  when  con- 
fronted with  the  charge,  he  denied  it,  albeit  with  a  grin. 

One  afternoon,  a  fortnight  later,  as  she  was  passing 
the  "  Monte,"  Fernandez,  who  chanced  to  be  standing  in 
the  doorway  said  to  her: 

"  Wait ;  I  have  something  from  my  wife." 

Sadie  accepted  the  parcel  that  he  handed  her  with 
certain  misgivings. 

"  You  hear  from  Red's  girl  ?  "  the  Mexican  inquired, 
showing  his  teeth.  Sadie  blushed. 

"  Mr.  Thompson  had  a  letter  from  Tunnison,"  she 
told  him.  "  She's  delivering  the  goods  all  right." 

Fernandez  nodded  wisely. 

"Did  he  hear  from  Red?"  he  asked. 

Sadie  laughed.     "  I  guess  not,"  she  replied. 

Fernandez  spat  over  his  shoulder.  "  You  did  a  good 
job,"  he  declared. 

She  went  her  way  then,  conscious  that  the  eyes  of 
every  man  and  woman  in  the  street  were  upon  her.  In 
her  room  she  took  the  newspaper  wrapping  from  Fer- 

124 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

nandez's  gift.  It  was  a  breadth  of  white  linen,  a  shirt- 
waist pattern,  exquisitely  designed  in  drawn-work,  for 
Mrs.  Fernandez  had  originally  come  from  the  City  of 
Mexico,  and  had  learned  the  art  of  linen-working  when 
a  child.  Indeed  her  close  application  to  the  work  in  later 
years  had  resulted  in  her  losing  the  sight  of  one  eye, 
though  Sadie  did  not  know  this. 

She  displayed  the  pattern  to  Billy,  protesting  against 
Mrs.  Fernandez  having  given  it  to  her. 

"  It  just  shows  you  how  much  she  thinks  of  you,"  he 
said. 

Nor  was  he  surprised  on  another  day  when  Skinny 
McGregor  came  across  to  the  eating  house  during  Sadie's 
absence  bent  beneath  the  weight  of  a  rolled  Navajo 
blanket  of  startling  pattern. 

"  She's  brought  stuff  over  to  the  tent  for  me  to  eat 
a  dozen  times,  Billy,"  the  little  croupier  explained,  "  and 
it's  just  to  pay  her  back.  I  got  it  of  Navajo  John's 
squaw.  It  looks  like  an  old  one  to  me,  don't  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  What'd  you  have  to  pay  for  it,  Skinny  ? "  Billy 
asked,  examining  the  weave  critically. 

"  Thirty  dollars." 

Billy  looked  up,  dumfounded. 

"  Don't  worry,"  McGregor  assured  him,  "  I  had  the 
price." 

And  together  they  spread  the  blanket  on  the  bare 
floor  of  Sadie's  chamber.  When  she  returned,  an  hour 
later,  Billy  waited  below,  and  as  the  door  of  her  room 
creaked,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  her  little 
squeal  when  her  eyes  beheld  the  brilliant  covering. 


Sadie 

"  You  oughta  stayed,"  he  told  Skinny  that  evening 
in  the  "  Monte." 

"  I'm  glad  she  liked  it,"  was  all  the  little  fellow  said. 

It  was  the  same  with  Sansome.  One  day  he  brought 
her  a  huge  yellow  jardiniere,  and  on  a  Sunday  afternoon 
they  dug  up  a  cactus  together  and  planted  it  therein. 

"You'll  have  a  regular  boudoir  if  you  keep  it  up," 
Billy  prophesied,  and  Sadie  laughed. 

"  Seems  as  though  they  were  all  coming  in  a  bunch," 
she  said ;  "  anybody'd  think  I  was  going  to  be  mar- 
ried  " 

"And  setting  up  housekeeping  with  a  Navajo  and  a 
cactus,"  Billy  put  in.  "  That's  a  Navajo  more'n  most  of 
'em  start  on,  out  here.  Usually  it's  just  the  cactus,"  he 
declared. 

And  so,  in  a  way,  Sadie  was  not  surprised  that  ere 
long  Billy  himself  should  contribute  to  her  collection  of 
affection  tokens.  His  gift  came  "  franked  "  from  Chi- 
cago. It  was  contained  in  a  box  about  eight  inches  long 
and  four  wide.  Still  sealed,  as  he  had  received  it,  Sadie 
found  it  on  her  pillow  one  evening  with  a  bit  of  paper 
attached  on  which  was  written  in  Billy's  scrawling  hand : 

"  Much  obliged." 

Her  fingers  trembled  the  least  bit  as  she  tore  off  the 
outer  wrapping,  and  a  mist  came  into  her  eyes.  With 
lingering  anticipation  she  removed  the  cover  of  the  inner 
green  box.  There,  half  hidden  in  a  holster  of  delicately 
traced  pigskin,  lay  a  "  gun."  It  was  of  small  calibre — 
"  girl's  size  "  as  Billy  later  explained — but  built  in  exact 
imitation  of  his  own  heavier  weapon  which  she  had  used 

126 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

on  one  occasion  to  such  an  excellent  end.  The  yellow 
lamplight  twinkled  on  the  pearl  grip;  and  the  traceries 
of  the  trigger  guard  and  cylinder  were  of  gold. 

Sadie  came  downstairs  dangling  the  weapon  in  one 
hand,  its  holster  in  the  other. 

"  Billy—"  Her  voice  caught.  "  Billy,  it's — it's  beau- 
tiful." 

Perhaps  he  had  never  looked  more  foolish  than  at 
that  moment. 

"  You  can't  tell  when  you  may  need  one — out  here," 
he  muttered,  avoiding  her  eyes.  "  Lemme  see  it." 

He  tested  the  mechanism.  "  It  seems  to  be  all  right. 
I  ordered  it  from  a  catalogue  and  mostly  they're  skins. 
It'll  'blow,'  though,  I  guess." 

"  It's  beautiful,"  Sadie  repeated. 

She  fondled  it  as  another  girl  might  have  caressed 
an  exquisite  piece  of  jewelry. 

"  Can't  we  go  out  and  try  it  some  day  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Sure,"  Billy  replied.     "  We  can  go  to-morrow." 

And  they  did;  and  on  many  days  thereafter  they 
might  have  been  seen,  on  the  edge  of  the  mesa,  their 
figures  sharply  cut  against  the  cloudless  sky,  until  Billy 
informed  Sadie  at  last  that  she  could  kill  a  rattler  from 
a  running  horse  as  easily  as  any  cowpuncher.  Her 
delight  vanished,  however,  a  moment  later  when  he 
informed  her  that  anybody  might  accomplish  that  seem- 
ingly impossible  feat  owing  to  the  overwhelming  desire 
of  the  rattler  itself  to  be  destroyed. 

"  He  does  the  aiming,  you  don't,"  he  explained. 
"  Which  goes  to  show  what  a  blamed  fool  a  rattler  is." 

127 


Sadie 

Yet,  after  all,  Sadie  wished  that  Billy  had  not  given 
her  the  gun;  not  because  it  was  a  gun,  but  because  it 
was  a  gift  from  him.  If  before  she  had  doubted  that 
he  loved  her,  she  was  certain  now,  and  the  thought  in 
a  way  grieved  her,  for  she  told  herself  what  most  she 
wanted  from  him  was  an  open,  candid  friendship;  no 
more;  for  beyond  that  she  had  nothing  to  give  him  in 
return. 

On  a  Thursday,  a  fortnight  later,  as  she  was  return- 
ing from  little  McGregor's  tent  where  he  lay  miserably 
sick,  she  happened  to  glance  through  the  lunch-room 
window  as  she  came  down  the  cinder  path  at  the  end  of 
the  building.  She  had  left  her  gloves  on  the  counter, 
where  Billy  had  found  them.  He  did  not  lift  his  eyes 
as  she  passed  the  window,  and  she  was  glad  therefor. 
He  sat  bent  over  in  a  chair  drawn  out  from  one  of  the 
tables,  his  forearms  on  his  knees,  and  in  his  hands  he 
held  the  gloves,  caressing  them  tenderly.  In  the  little 
instant  given  her  to  see,  he  crushed  them  both  between 
his  palms  and  pressed  them  to  his  lips. 

"  O  Billy ! "  Sadie  sighed  under  her  breath,  and 
gathering  up  her  skirts  ran  back  down  the  siding  toward 
the  water  tank.  A  moment  she  hesitated  doubtfully, 
then  turning  came  slowly  on,  whistling  blithely.  At  the 
corner  of  the  structure  she  commenced  to  sing.  When, 
a  moment  later,  she  appeared  in  the  doorway  Billy 
glanced  up  from  the  paper  he  was  reading.  The  gloves 
lay  at  the  end  of  the  counter  where  she  had  left  them. 
As  she  passed  him  and  ran  up  the  stairs  he  only  nodded. 
But  when  he  heard  her  door  close  he  threw  down  the 

128 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

paper  impatiently  and  stood  up  muttering  under  his 
breath.  Disconsolately  he  shambled  forth  into  the  outer 
glare,  the  brim  of  his  gaudily  ribboned  straw  dipping 
over  his  eyes,  his  hands  thrust  deep  into  the  pockets  of 
his  check-flannel  trousers. 

"  You're  a  damn  fool ! "  he  grumbled  as  he  crossed 
Main  Street.  "  You're  nutty."  It  was  not  Sadie, 
however,  watching  him  from  the  window  of  her  little 
room,  whom  he  thus  reproved,  but  himself. 

If  he  would  only  speak,  she  thought,  and  lay  bare 
to  her  his  heart,  she  might  make  him  understand;  but 
until  he  should  she  must  keep  silent — conventionally 
silent — conscious  of  what  he  suffered. 

To  the  smallest  details  she  recalled  what  he  had  done 
for  her  from  the  day  of  her  arrival  here.  Always,  and 
in  a  multitude  of  ways,  he  had  sought  to  add  to  her  com- 
fort. In  great  degree  he  had  striven  to  lighten  the 
burden  of  her  tasks,  slight  as  they  would  otherwise  have 
been.  Sometimes,  indeed,  with  so  little  to  do,  she  had 
called  herself  a  pensioner.  But  Billy  always  scowled 
when  she  referred  to  her  idleness  in  his  presence.  With 
a  shiver  she  recalled  the  episode  at  San  Luis.  She  saw 
his  face  now,  as  it  had  appeared  to  her  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  corridor  over  the  shoulder  of  the  gurgling  Lawton. 
And  then,  in  front  of  both  their  faces,  hiding  them, 
appeared  another — a  youthful,  clean-cut  face  crowned 
with  yellow  hair,  just  visible  beneath  the  sombrero 
pushed  well  back  upon  his  head — the  face  of  him  whom 
Thompson  had  called  "  Curly  "  Watrous. 

"  Billy,"  she  whispered  to  her  heart,  "  I  wish  I  could 
129 


Sadie 

love  you !  "  and  turned   from  the  window,  just  as  he 
vanished  through  the  narrow  door  of  Skinny's  tent. 

Perhaps  it  was  natural,  under  the  circumstances,  that 
Thompson  should  have  made  no  secret  of  his  heart's  de- 
sire from  the  little  croupier.  Something  told  him  that 
Skinny  would  understand;  and  therein  he  was  right. 
Skinny  did  understand,  but  in  a  way  that  Thompson 
could  not  foresee. 

One  other  day,  late  in  the  winter  of  that  year,  the  two 
sat  together  in  McGregor's  tent.  For  a  month  Bagdad 
had  slept  save  when  some  enthusiastic  prospector  de- 
scended, with  a  golden  narrative,  from  the  Northern 
fields.  At  such  times  it  awakened  for  the  moment,  but 
presently  drowsed  again. 

The  sun  swung  low  in  the  shimmering  sky  and  the 
gentle  breeze  fluttered  the  little  flag  above  the  entrance 
of  the  tent.  For  ten  minutes  Billy  had  sat  in  silence, 
his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his  chin  in  his  hands,  staring  off 
into  the  South.  Behind  him  Skinny  lay  back  in  his  low 
steamer  chair.  With  a  burning  intensity  of  gaze  he 
studied  the  back  of  Billy's  head  as  if  he  would  pierce 
through  into  the  turbulent  brain  it  held,  and  read  the 
thoughts  that  crowded  one  another  there. 

"  Skinny  " — Billy  did  not  change  his  attitude ;  indeed, 
he  spoke  as  if  addressing  himself.  "  Skinny,  ain't 
it  funny  how  a  fellow  feels — sometimes  ?  " 

McGregor's  eyes  narrowed  to  slits.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"A  year  ago  I  didn't  have  an  idea  in  my  head,"  the 
other  confessed,  "  but  now  " — he  hesitated. 

130 


An  Exchange  of  Confidences 

"  Billy  " — McGregor's  voice  was  thin  and  low-pitched 
— "  Billy,  why  don't  you  and  Sadie  hit  it  off  together  ?  " 

Thompson  could  never  know  the  pang  the  question 
cost  the  little  fellow. 

He  did  not  turn,  but  continued  to  stare  unseeingly 
off  into  the  South. 

"  That's  just  it ;  why  don't  we  ?  "  was  his  dreary  reply. 

"  Have  you  ever  asked  her  ?  " 

Thompson's  shoulders  lifted. 

"  It  wouldn't  do  any  good,"  he  announced,  "  I  know 
that." 

"How?" 

"  Instinct,  I  guess ;  and  the  way  she  acts." 

Skinny  sat  up  then  and  clasped  his  thin  hands  around 
one  knee. 

"  She  likes  you ;  anybody  could  see  it,"  he  declared. 

"  She  likes  me  well  enough,  I  guess,"  the  other  re- 
plied, "  but  that  don't  help  any.  She  likes  everybody, 
and  everybody  likes  her.  She  ain't  any  different  with 
me,  for  all  I  see  her  so  much,  than  she  is  with  Charley  or 
Robinson,  or  Sansome — or  you."  He  looked  around  as 
he  finished  and  their  eyes  met.  In  Skinny's  flickered  the 
light  of  a  little  smile. 

"  She's  had  a  lot  of  chances,"  Billy  continued.  "  Lord, 
I  showed  up  my  hand  before  the  last  card  was  down. 
But  she  didn't  take  any  advantage  of  that." 

"  That's  because  she  only  knows  how  to  play  a  square 
game,"  Skinny  put  in. 

"  There's  no  use  trying  to  cover  it  up,  or  lie  about  it," 
Billy  confessed,  "  she's  for  mine ;  only  she  don't  see  it. 


Sadie 

She's  in  a  class  by  herself.  The  patterns  of  her  have 
been  lost.  How  many  girls'd  do  what  she  did  for  Allie, 
do  you  suppose?  Not  a  damn  one!  That's  how  many. 
And  what'd  the  average  girl  done  in  her  place  the  night 
Lawton  was  out  gunnin'  for  me  ?  Keeled  over !  That's 
what;  keeled  over!  And  they'd  have  laid  there  like 
they'd  been  hit  with  a  club  till  somebody'd  poured  a  pail 
of  water  on  'em.  And  she's  been  up  against  it  ever  since 
she's  been  out  here,  in  a  way,  too.  But,  Skinny,"  he 
"declared  with  solemn  intensity,  "  she's  stood  the  acid. 
She's  stood  it  better'n  any  tenderfoot  that  ever  hit  this 
country  before.  Fact  is,"  he  added,  "  she  ain't  a  ten- 
derfoot, nor  never  was.  She's  a  thoroughbred — the  real 
thing — clear  through." 

"  I  guess  that's  right,"  Skinny  agreed  as  the  other 
arose.  "  I  guess  she  is." 

"  Oh,  well,"  the  latter  mourned  drearily,  "  what's  the 
use  of  anything?  Nothing.  That's  what.  Forget  it, 
Skinny;  forget  it.  I'm  going  to.  Maybe  one  or  the 
other  of  us'll  pull  freight  out  of  here  before  long;  you 
can't  ever  tell.  And  whether  we  hit  it  off  or  not,  she'll  hit 
it  off  with  somebody.  That's  a  cinch !  Girls  like  her 
don't  have  to  hang  on  the  tree  long  before  somebody 
picks  'em.  Good-by."  He  strode  out  of  the  tent  whis- 
tling bravely. 

For  a  long  time  Skinny  lay  back  motionless  in  his 
chair,  his  thin  hands  lying  listlessly  on  the  narrow  arms. 

"  Sadie,"  he  whispered  to  his  heart,  as  the  lids  drooped 
drowsily  over  his  burning,  sunken  eyes,  "  Sadie,  everybody 
loves  you  and  I — guess — I — love — you — most — of — all." 

132 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   LETTER   BACK   HOME 

A  LETTER   from   Sadie   Morrison,   at   Bagdad,   to 
Frances  Finlay,  care  Kelsey's  No.  i,  Kansas  City, 
Missouri. 

DEAREST  FAN:  Your  letter  made  me  homesick  for 
fair.  But  I'm  awful  grateful  for  it  "  allee  samee,"  as 
that  fat  Chink  in  the  laundry  on  the  corner  of  Ninth 
Street  used  to  say.  When  Frank  Sansome  brought  it  over 
day  before  yesterday — he's  the  postmaster  as  well  as  the 
druggist  of  this  place — I  took  it  straight  upstairs — you 
ought  to  see  my  room,  Fan — and  settled  right  down  by 
the  window  to  read  it.  What  an  old  skate  Grace  is! 
Going  to  be  married  and  not  say  a  word  about  it  till  she 
had  all  her  duds  ready!  No,  I  don't  place  the  fellow, 
even  if  he  does  work  for  the  Carter  System.  There's  more 
than  a  million  folks  working  for  these  people,  and  planted 
way  off  here  where  I  am,  I  ain't  supposed  to  know  them 
all,  am  I?  I  suppose  Grace  has  got  heaps  of  swell 
clothes.  I  wish  I  could  see  her  things.  The  only 
man  I  know  back  in  the  head  office,  where  you  say  her 
fellow  works,  is  Mr.  Stevens.  He's  the  superintendent 
and  gave  me  my  job.  I  wish  Grace  was  going  to  marry 
him.  He  seemed  real  nice.  He's  an  awful  swell 

133 


Sadie 

dresser,  too.  But  Mr.  Thompson  told  me  he  had  a  wife 
and  three  children,  so  I  guess  that  bars  him.  It  wouldn't 
some,  maybe;  but  he  ain't  that  kind.  I  guess  you've 
never  seen  him.  I  don't  believe  he  takes  his  lunch  at 
old  No.  i.  Lordy,  Fan,  how  funny  it  seems  to  talk  about 
the  place.  I  know  it  was  a  hundred  years  ago  I  worked 
there.  And  yet  if  I  shut  my  eyes  I  can  see  everything 
as  plain  as  day ;  from  the  pie-cuts  on  the  counter  to  that 
yellow-headed  Madge  O'Neill  in  the  cashier's  cage  chew- 
ing gum  and  making  eyes  at  all  the  fellows.  I  don't 
see  what  so  many  of  them  saw  in  her,  do  you  ?  She  had 
awful  teeth.  You  say  everything's  about  the  same. 
Well,  that's  the  way  it  always  was;  generally  the  girls 
have  stuck.  Sooner  or  later,  though,  I'm  going  to  get 
you  out  here.  I've  had  my  eyes  open  over  a  year  now 
and  the  minute  anything  really  good  shows  up  I'll  put 
you  on.  I  know  you'd  like  it.  There's  something  about 
this  country  that's  lots  cleaner  than  back  East,  and  the 
folks  are  different,  too.  Just  now,  though,  in  Bagdad 
things  are  pretty  quiet.  Nearly  everybody's  hoping  for  a 
gold  rush.  There's  lots  of  rich  mines  going  to  be  dis- 
covered up  North,  and  we  all  think  Bagdad'll  have  a 
show  before  long.  That's  about  the  only  excuse  the 
town's  got  for  living  just  now.  Some  of  the  people  I 
know  have  gone  off  prospecting  and  I  hope  they'll  strike 
it  rich.  Jerry  Rowley,  the  proprietor  of  a  general  store 
here,  is  one.  Did  I  tell  you  about  how  I  saw  him  the  first 
day  I  hit  town,  and  how  he  came  over  to  the  eating  house 
that  night  to  call,  with  a  bun  and  his  best  clothes  on? 
Well,  he  did.  He  quit  drinking,  though,  before  he  went 

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A  Letter  Back  Home 


North.  I  hope  he's  stuck  it  out.  Mr.  Fernandez  here 
told  me  he  had  a  letter  from  him  last  week  and  he's  com- 
ing back  soon,  now.  He  was  in  Salt  Lake  when  he  wrote. 
He  left  one  of  his  ponies  here  for  me  to  ride  and  I've 
done  a  lot  of  it.  Easter  I  rode  down  to  San  Luis  to 
church.  I  wish  you'd  been  there  to  see  the  celebration. 

Say,  Fan,  remember  what  I  wrote  you  about  Mr. 
Thompson  last  fall  ?  Well,  he's  got  it  bad.  It's  as  clear 
as  a  sunset  here  in  the  desert.  Anybody  could  see  it 
with  their  eyes  shut,  but  I  couldn't  for  a  long  time.  I 
do  now,  though.  I  guess  I'm  half  fool  anyway.  And 
listen — it's  over  me.  He  ain't  told  me  about  it,  but  he's 
got  it  just  the  same.  And  I'm  up  against  it  good  and 
hard.  I  can't  frame  a  way  to  let  him  down  for  the  life 
of  me.  I  like  him.  Oh,  I  like  him  lots  and  lots,  but 
that  ain't  enough.  I  can't  ever  marry  him.  And  some- 
times it  seems  to  me  he  must  feel  the  way  I  think  about 
it  without  his  ever  having  mentioned  it.  Why  wouldn't  he 
say  something  if  he  didn't?  Don't  you  suppose  he  does? 
He  just  mopes  like  Maggie  used  to  when  she'd  had  a 
fight  with  her  fellow.  Remember?  I  feel  awful  sorry 
for  him,  but  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do.  Maybe,  though, 
I'll  be  able  to  fix  it  up  one  of  these  days.  You  see  I  want 
him  to  like  me — but  that's  all.  I'll  let  you  know  how  it 
comes  out. 

Say,  what  would  you  think  of  me  working  in  a  gam- 
bling house?  Wouldn't  it  jar  you!  Way  along  last 
summer  when  I  first  came,  Skinny  McGregor — remem- 
ber, I  told  you  he  runs  the  wheel  over  at  the  "  Monte," 
Mr.  Fernandez's  place — told  me  I  could  spin  the  thing 
!0  135 


Sadie 

some  night,  if  I  wanted  to,  when  there's  a  lot  around. 
I  guess  if  the  town  don't  wake  up  before  long  I'll  have 
to  do  it  just  for  excitement.  You  see  out  here  the  lid 
ain't  screwed  down  as  tight  as  it  is  in  the  towns  back  East. 
Everybody  gambles  that's  got  anything  to  gamble  with, 
but  it  don't  seem  to  hurt  them.  It  ain't  anything  out 
of  the  way  to  see  a  woman  in  a  saloon,  either.  Mrs. 
Fernandez,  and  she's  as  nice  a  greaser  lady  as  there  is 
here,  helps  her  husband  out  sometimes  when  there's  a 
rush.  I  just  thought  I'd  tell  you  so  if  the  Star  ever  has 
an  article  in  it  about  "  The  Girl  Gambler  of  Bagdad," 
you'll  know  it's  me. 

Gee,  I  wish  you  were  out  here,  we'd  have  a  picnic! 
Only  I  suppose  you'd  get  married  before  you'd  been  in 
the  country  a  week.  There's  lots  of  chances,  Fan ;  about 
a  million  right  around  Bagdad.  It's  a  wonder  some  of 
the  left-overs  back  East  wouldn't  come  on  out  here. 
There  might  be  something  doing  for  them  if  they  did. 
There  ain't  very  many  women  in  the  town.  Nice  ones 
I  mean.  They're  mostly  the  other  kind.  But  we  don't 
see  much  of  them.  I  could  show  you  any  number  of 
fine  fellows  that  ought  to  be  married  to  a  girl  like  you 
and  would  be,  too,  if  the  girls  were  on  hand.  I  just  hear 
you  say :  "  Why  don't  she  nail  one  herself  ?  "  I  guess 
I  ain't  the  marrying  kind,  Fan.  You  heard  about  the 
little  boy  that  bawled  for  the  moon.  Well,  that  was  me. 

By  the  way,  you  haven't  mentioned  J.  L.  once.  Do 
you  ever  see  him?  Is  he  still  at  Frieberg's?  Did  I  tell 
you  how  I  met  him  right  under  the  electric  light  on  the 
corner  above  No.  i  the  night  I  left  K.  C.,  and  how  we 

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A  Letter  Back  Home 


had  a  heart  to  heart?  /  did  the  talking.  He  just  list- 
ened. I've  often  wondered  if  he's  still  there.  Some 
day  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  It  ain't  much  though.  I 
guess  I  never  did  care  anything  about  him ;  anyway  not 
as  strong  as  I  thought  I  did,  or  you  girls  thought.  I'm 
just  curious  to  know  what's  happened  to  him,  that's  all. 

You  ought  to  see  the  present  Billy — that's  Mr.  Thomp- 
son— sent  way  to  Chicago  to  get  for  me.  It's  a  gun,  a 
revolver,  I  mean.  It's  the  prettiest  one  you  ever  saw. 
He's  taught  me  how  to  shoot  it  and  we've  been  over  on 
the  mesa  a  lot  of  times  trying  it.  I  can  hit  a  card  quite 
a  long  ways  off.  Some  day,  if  I  keep  on  maybe  I'll  be 
able  to  shoot  the  spot  off  an  ace.  Then  I  suppose  I'll 
join  a  wild-west  show,  and  you'll  see  me  in  a  leather 
skirt,  with  fringe  on  my  stockings,  breaking  glass  balls. 

Gee,  I'd  like  to  go  to  a  show  once  more.  Any  old 
thing  would  do.  I  guess  I  could  even  stand  that  rotten 
vaudeville  they  used  to  have  out  at  the  Park.  Wasn't 
it  the  limit?  Oh,  and  say,  I  want  to  tell  you  about  the 
dream  I  had  one  night  last  week.  I  thought  you  and 
Grace  and  I  went  to  see  Sothern.  I  don't  remember  the 
show  only  Sothern  was  all  the  time  looking  for  the  hero- 
ine. She  didn't  come  out  once.  Nobody  seemed  to 
think  it  was  funny,  and  then  in  the  second  act  Sothern 
came  down  in  the  audience  looking  everywhere  for  her. 
I  could  see  him  just  as  plain  as  anything,  from  where 
we  sat,  back  in  the  circle.  All  of  a  sudden  I  thought  I 
was  laying  down  on  a  sofa,  just  like  the  one  you  had  in 
your  room,  with  red  roses  on  it.  And  while  I  was  laying 
there,  along  he  came  and  saw  me.  Ain't  he  got  just  the 


Sadie 

gloriousest  eyes,  though!  Seemed  as  though  he  looked 
right  through  me.  I  couldn't  move  a  muscle,  I  was  so 
skairt.  He  came  closer  and  closer  and  then  he  leaned 
over  me.  His  whole  face  changed  and  I  realized  he'd 
found  her  and  I  was  It.  Then  I  woke  up.  Wasn't  that 
the  limit?  To  wake  up  right  then  I  mean.  Soon  as  I 
could  I  went  to  sleep  again  just  to  see  how  it  all  came  out, 
but  there  was  nothing  doing.  Maybe  I  wasn't  mad ! 

No,  I  don't  get  homesick  very  often.  I  did  when  I 
read  your  letter,  though.  And  once  in  a  while,  when 
I'm  upstairs  nights,  and  it's  all  so  still  and  kind  of  hollow, 
and  I  get  to  thinking  of  old  K.  C.,  and  the  good  times 
we  used  to  have,  it  makes  me  want  to  bawl  good.  I  get 
so  hungry  to  see  you  and  Grace  again.  Sometimes  I 
shut  my  eyes  and  imagine  we're  all  together  again,  out  at 
the  Park  Sunday  afternoon.  I  can  almost  hear  the  band. 
But  I  guess  I'll  never  go  back.  There's  nothing  to  take 
me,  and  I  like  it  lots  out  here.  If  mother  was  right 
maybe  it  would  be  different.  She  don't  get  any  better. 
I  don't  believe  she  ever  will.  I  hear  about  her  from  the 
Sisters  now  and  then.  Sister  Hortense  wrote  me  in  the 
winter  that  maybe  she'd  live  till  next  year.  When  you're 
over  that  way,  why  don't  you  go  in  and  see  her,  if  it 
ain't  too  much  trouble?  She  probably  wouldn't  know 
you,  but  you  could  write  me  how  she  looked  anyway. 
I  was  figuring  up  only  the  other  day  how  I  could  get 
some  material  for  two  or  three  new  shirt  waists  and 
send  the  Sisters  the  money,  too.  But  I  guess  I  don't 
need  the  shirt  waists  very  much  after  all.  I  don't  have 
much  use  for  money  out  here.  There's  nothing  to  buy 

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A  Letter  Back  Home 


and  my  washing  goes  in  with  the  house  stuff.  I  go 
round  looking  like  any  old  thing,  almost.  What  are  they 
showing  that's  new  this  spring  ?  I'll  bet  the  windows  are 
swell,  long  about  now,  with  fancy  things  for  summer. 

You  know  that  old  tan  skirt  of  mine,  the  full  one  I 
mean,  that  Grace  wanted  me  to  sell  her  ?  I  made  it  over 
to  ride  in  and  it  looks  real  good.  I  ride  straddle ;  every- 
body does  out  here.  The  first  one  I  had  I  made  of  blue 
denim,  but  it  all  wore  white  from  rubbing  on  the  saddle 
and  made  me  look  as  though  I'd  sat  down  in  a  pan  of 
flour.  The  serge  is  wearing  lots  better.  My  blue-flannel 
waist  is  just  the  thing,  too,  and  when  I  get  all  rigged  up 
I'm  a  picture  no  artist  could  paint.  I've  got  a  wide- 
brimmed  felt  hat,  kind  of  buff  color  with  a  leather  band, 
and  I  wear  a  red  silk  handkerchief  around  my  neck  The 
sun  is  so  hot  you  know.  I've  seen  it  a  hundred  and  twelve 
here  at  noon.  Then  with  my  tan  shoes,  and  gloves  with 
fringe  on  them,  I'm  a  show.  A  regular  cowboy,  espe- 
cially when  I  wear  the  gun  Billy  gave  me.  Talking  about 
cowboys,  Fan,  I  saw  one  at  a  dance  I  went  to  down  at 
San  Luis  that  would  get  your  tag  if  you'd  seen  him.  I 
guess  he  comes  from  somewhere  back  East.  He  looked 
like  he  did,  anyway.  He  was  one  of  the  handsomest 
fellows  I  ever  saw.  Remember  that  play  you  and  I 
went  to  once  ?  Something  about  "  Ceasar  "  somebody. 
The  last  name  sounded  like  "  banana."  Well,  he  looked 
just  like  the  actor  that  played  it,  only  he  was  younger  and 
a  blonde.  Billy  knows  him.  His  name's  Watrous.  They 
call  him  "  Curly  "  on  account  of  his  hair.  I  saw  him  just 
that  one  night,  and  he  didn't  see  me.  He  went  off  up 

139 


Sadie 

North  prospecting  and  probably  I'll  never  lay  eyes  on 
him  again.  That's  the  way  it  goes  out  here. 

Frank  Sansome  brought  me  a  cactus  blossom  yester- 
day, so  I  guess  summer's  about  due.  If  you  think  it's 
hot  down  in  No.  I  in  July  you  ought  to  come  out  here. 
Billy  says  Bagdad's  right  on  the  rim  of  hell — sometimes 
he  swears  perfectly  awful,  but  he  does  it  so  gentlemanly 
you  can't  get  mad — and  that  if  somebody  gave  it  a 
good  push  it  would  go  over.  A  hundred  and  ten  is 
nothing;  and  I've  seen  it  a  hundred  and  five  at  mid- 
night. That's  going  some,  ain't  it?  but  as  Jerry  Rowley 
said,  the  night  he  came  to  see  me  with  a  shine,  you  never 
sweat.  How  I  hate  that  word;  don't  you?  On  the 
square,  Fan,  I'd  rather  have  a  hundred  and  ten  here  any- 
time than  eighty-five  in  K.  C.  It's  so  dry.  Beer  costs 
a  dollar  a  bottle.  What  do  you  think  of  that?  The 
eating  house  is  the  only  place  in  town  that  has  any  ice. 
They  throw  some  off  of  No.  5  every  day.  But  it's  a 
snap  for  me  after  all.  The  only  time  there's  ever  a 
rush  is  when  the  men  up  at  the  borax  mine  come  down 
once  a  month  after  pay  day.  It  gets  a  little  lively  then, 
sometimes.  Poor  fellows,  it's  the  only  fun  they  have, 
and  I  don't  blame  them  much  if  they  do  get  teaed — 
Billy  calls  it  "  soused  " — when  they  hit  town.  I  would, 
too,  I  guess,  if  I  had  to  work  like  they  do.  It  goes  to  a 
hundred  and  forty  sometimes  where  they  are.  How'd 
you  like  that? 

Well,  I've  written  a  lot  but  I  ain't  said  much,  have  I  ? 
Some  afternoon,  when  things  are  quiet,  I  wish  you'd  go 
into  the  People's  Cut  Rate  Drug  Store  next  to  Frieberg's 

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A  Letter  Back  Home 


and  get  a  pineapple  sundae  on  me.  Gee,  I  wish  I  had 
one  this  minute!  I've  forgotten  how  they  taste;  but  I 
could  eat  a  million.  And  say,  Fan,  if  you  do  hear  any- 
thing about  J.  L.  let  me  know,  won't  you?  But  don't 
tell  him  where  I  am.  I  guess  maybe  he's  never  asked,  or 
you'd  have  said  something  about  it.  It  won't  do  any 
good  for  him  to  know ;  he'd  only  write  me  a  letter,  and 
if  I  ever  got  a  letter  from  him,  now,  I  guess  I'd  pass 
away.  Give  my  love  to  Grace  and  tell  her  I  hope  she'll 
be  awful  happy.  She'll  make  him  a  good  wife,  whoever 
he  is.  I  wish  I  could  see  her  married,  but  I'll  think  of 
her,  anyway.  Maybe  they'll  come  out  here  over  the  line 
on  their  wedding  trip.  He  could  get  passes,  easy  as 
anything,  if  he's  with  the  System.  Why  don't  you  tell 
her?  Gee,  I'd  like  to  see  her  get  off  of  No.  8  some  day. 
I'd  hug  her  to  death.  But  if  I  don't  stop  writing  I  will 
get  homesick.  Lots  of  love.  Good-by, 

SADE. 

P.  S.  I  wish  you'd  go  to  the  embroidery  counter  at 
Mason's  and  get  me  six  yards  of  some  pretty  beading; 
not  too  wide.  I'll  send  you  stamps  when  you  tell  me  how 
much  it  is. 

S. 


CHAPTER   XII 

AN   INTERCEPTED    MESSAGE 

FOR  quite  half  an  hour  no  one  had  spoken.  Their 
community  of  discontent  made  speech  unnecessary. 
Billy  Thompson  sat  on  the  bench  beside  the  water  pail, 
his  feet  outstretched,  his  chin  sunk  in  the  loose  bosom  of 
his  pink-striped  shirt.  His  mood  was  perhaps  indicated 
the  more  accurately  by  the  band  around  the  flat,  hard 
crown  of  the  straw  hat  that  lay  on  his  knees.  It  was 
lavender.  Robinson,  the  operator,  was  hunched  over  his 
table  writing  a  letter  "  back  home."  Every  now  and 
then  he  would  brush  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his 
freckled  forehead,  and  wipe  the  swiftly  drying  pen  on 
his  red  hair.  The  light,  striking  the  key  and  sounder, 
glinted  golden.  At  the  window,  gazing  abstractedly  into 
the  face  of  the  dozing  desert,  sat  Skinny.  Occasionally 
he  would  cough.  That  and  the  rasp  of  Robinson's  pen 
scratching  the  yellow  paper  were  the  only  sounds  in  the 
little,  oven  office.  Outside  the  sun  poured  of  its  brazen 
flood  across  the  sand.  In  the  distance  the  air  trembled. 
The  face  of  the  land  seemed  to  shrivel  in  the  blighting 
glare. 

A  tiny  lizard  crept  to  the  edge  of  the  station  shadow, 
and  lay  there  like  an  ill-shaped,  animated  emerald,  dart- 

142 


An  Intercepted  Message 

ing  forth  its  slim,  sharp  tongue,  and  staring,  unwinking, 
at  the  brilliant  sky.  The  metallic  twinkle  of  the  light 
upon  its  back  caught  Skinny's  eye,  and  leaning  across 
the  sill  of  the  always  open  window  he  took  careful  aim 
and  spat — missing.  The  lizard  did  not  move. 

"  Look  a'  the  blamed  thing !  "  McGregor  sneered. 

At  the  sudden  exclamation  Robinson  dropped  his  pen 
and  swore  temperately;  Billy  looked  up. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  the  latter  asked. 

"  Out  there,"  Skinny  replied,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head. 

Robinson  and  Billy  craned  over  the  table. 

Skinny  tried  a  second  time  and  missed. 

"  Bet  you  two  bits  I  can  hit  him,"  Billy  dared. 

"  Take  you."  The  operator  covered  the  coin  that 
was  laid  upon  the  table.  "  You  hold  the  stakes,  Skinny." 

With  delicate  pains  Billy  sighted  over  the  sill,  worked 
his  mouth  rapidly  a  moment,  closed  one  eye,  and  fired. 

"  Yah  !  "  cried  Robinson,  "  gimme  the  money."  For 
the  manager  had  missed  the  mark  by  quite  six  inches. 

Then  Robinson  tried,  and  failed.  The  little  unblink- 
ing splotch  of  emerald  at  the  edge  of  the  cinder  siding 
seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life. 

"  Can't  none  of  you  do  it  ?  "  Skinny  declared. 

Rising  in  his  wrath,  Billy  laid  violent  hands  upon  the 
telegrapher's  ink  bottle,  and,  forgetting  that  it  was  un- 
corked, cast  it  swiftly  through  the  window.  "  Take 
that !  "  he  cried.  The  little  animal  was  drenched  with 
the  violet  fluid,  but  still  it  did  not  move,  only  darted  its 
tiny  tongue  the  faster.  It  was  even  too  hot  for  the  lizard 
to  take  notice  of  an  unexpected  bath,  or  for  Robinson  to 

143 


Sadie 

complain  that  now  he  would  have  to  crawl  across  Main 
Street  to  Sansome's  for  another  bottle. 

Skinny  chuckled  and  coughed.  Billy  glanced  at 
him  and  grinned.  Robinson  wiped  the  pen  on  his  hair 
and  thrust  it  into  the  potato  on  the  table. 

"Ain't  it  hell  ? "  he  inquired  tersely,  apropros  of 
nothing. 

"  Near's  I  want  to  get  to  it,"  was  Thompson's  sour 
reply. 

"  It  all  goes  to  show,"  Skinny  contributed. 

"What?"  asked  Billy. 

"  Th'  sorter  place  this  is."  He  straightened  in  his 
chair.  "  Here's  the  three  shinin'  lights  of  this  seethin' 
metropolis — loveliest  village  of  the  desert,  nit! — settin' 
here,  twiddlin'  their  thumbs,  and  spittin'  at  a  lizard, 
'cause  there  ain't  another  blamed  durn  thing  to  do.  And 
they  can't  even  hit  the  lizard !  Look  at  the  son-of-a-gun 
out  there.  A  hole  like  this  is  only  fit  for  him ;  him  and  the 
rattlers,  and  a  rat  now  and  then.  What's  the  use? 
Huh?  What's  the  use?" 

"And  that  ain't  no  lullaby  neither,"  agreed  the  opera- 
tor as  he  reached  down  kito  the  breast  pocket  of  his  blue- 
flannel  shirt  for  "  the  makin's." 

"  'Member  that  railroad  guy  that  dropped  off  here 
last  spring,  Skinny  ?  "  Billy  inquired. 

"  The  one  with  the  whiskers  and  the  checkered  pants  ? 
Uh  huh.  Why?" 

"  Nothin,'  only  he  had  it  doped  out  'bout  right.  Said 
if  a  fellow  wanted  to  get  acquainted  with  himself,  Bagdad 
was  the  place.  Said  he'd  have  plenty  of  time,  and  noth- 

144 


An  Intercepted  Message 

ing  to  distract  his  attention."     Billy  twisted  the  huge 
ring  on  his  thumb. 

"  He  was  a  wise  guy ;  that  feller,"  Robinson  agreed, 
bending  the  end  of  his  cigarette,  and  feeling  in  the  hip 
pocket  of  his  corduroys  for  a  match.  "A  wise  guy,  for 
sure." 

Just  then  the  open  sounder  on  the  table  commenced 
to  click. 

"Aw,  shut  up,  cancha,"  he  snarled.  His  cigarette 
alight  he  was  reaching  out  to  close  the  instrument  when 
a  strange  thing  occurred.  He  became  as  a  man  suddenly 
petrified.  His  hand  froze  above  the  key.  Cocking  his 
head  and  squinting  at  nothing  out  the  window,  he  listened 
breathlessly  to  the  story  the  little  insensate  machine 
clicked  out  upon  the  stillness.  McGregor  and  Thompson 
gazed  at  him.  As  a  break  came  in  the  clicks  he  smiled, 
and  reached  out  for  paper  and  pencil  without  ceasing  to 
stare  out  into  the  golden,  mote-shot  sunlight.  To  Skinny 
and  Billy,  watching,  he  seemed  to  write  automatically. 
It  was  very  like  a  performance  of  planchette.  On  the 
shelf,  over  the  table,  the  nickle  alarm  clock  ticked  on. 
Billy  and  Skinny  were  grinning  now.  For  quite  five 
minutes  the  operator  continued  to  scrawl  the  sheet  be- 
neath his  hand.  Then,  suddenly,  the  sounder  clicked 
sharply — more  sharply — half  a  dozen  times  and  fell 
silent.  With  a  long  whistle  Robinson  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  solemnly  inquired  of  the  glittering  sunlight : 

"  Well— what— th'— h ,  d'yeh— think— o'— that  ?  " 

"Aw,  come  outer  your  trance,"  Skinny  cried. 
"What's  it  all  about?  Earthquake?" 

MS 


Sadie 

"  Lemme  see  it,"  exclaimed  Thompson,  and  snatched 
up  the  sheet. 

Robinson  was  upon  his  feet  at  once. 

"  What  you  doin'  ?  "  he  protested.  "  You  can't  read 
it.  Give  it  to  me !  "  He  plucked  the  yellow  paper  from 
Billy's  hand.  "  Listen,"  he  commanded.  "  Who  said 
this  town  was  on  the  bum  ?  Who  said  there  wasn't  any- 
thing to  do  but  spit  at  lizards " 

"  For  God's  sake  read  it  if  you're  going'  to !  "  Thomp- 
son broke  in. 

"  Listen,  then ;  I  didn't  get  it  all.  It  was  going 
through  to  Phoenix — line  down  North  somewhere — 
washout — cloud  busted  probably — but  I  got  enough — 
listen : 

"'  .  .  .  greatest  strike  in  the  history  of  Western  mining  made 
here  this  week,  five  miles  north  of  Furnace  Creek'" — 

"  Whoopee !  "  Billy  broke  in. 

"  Shut   up,   cancha !  "   exclaimed    Skinny.     "  Go   on, 
Robby,  don't  mind  him,  he's  crazy  from  the  heat." 
"  Listen : 

"'Millions  in  sight.     Rush  sure.     Saw  Armstrong  yesterday'" — 

"That's  the  president  of  the  Salt  Lake  and  Gulf 
line !  "  Billy  cried.  "  Go  on !  " 

'"All  plans  changed.    Meet  Atlantic  and  Pacific  at  Bagdad'" — 
"Wow!"  yelled   Thompson.     "Go  on!" 

"'  .  .  .  tapping  new  fields.  Work  to  be  rushed  through.  Thou- 
sand men  needed  immediately.  All  ready  this  end.  Letters  follow. 
Get  busy.  Signed,  Gilding."' 

146 


An  Intercepted  Message 

The  despatch  dropped  from  the  operator's  fingers 
and  he  grinned  foolishly.  A  moment  the  three  of  them 
stared  into  one  another's  eyes.  It  was  Billy  who  broke 
the  silence,  and  he  broke  it  with  a  yell  that  carried  across 
Main  Street,  and  awoke  Fernandez  dozing  over  the  Police 
Gazette  at  the  end  of  the  "  Monte  "  bar.  Seizing  Rob- 
inson he  dragged  him  out  upon  the  floor  and  danced 
with  him  up  and  down  the  little  office,  knocking  over 
the  bench  and  water  pail  in  the  process,  while  Skinny 
looked  on,  silent  but  grinning,  from  his  station  at  the 
window. 

"  Why  don't  you  yell,  you  mullet ! "  Thompson 
shouted,  but  Skinny  only  shook  his  head  and  grinned  the 
broader. 

"  I'd  look  pretty  yellin,'  wouldn't  I  ?  "  he  replied,  after 
a  moment,  during  which  Robinson  managed  to  escape 
from  Billy's  wild  embrace.  "  One  yell'd  bust  me  wide 
open.  Want  me  to  croak  right  here?  They's  muss 
enough  now,  I  should  say."  He  stepped  high  over  the 
puddle  on  the  sunken  floor. 

"  Aw,  buck  up,  Skinny,"  urged  Thompson.  "  Croak ! 
Who's  goin'  to  croak — now?  By  golly  I  always  said 
it  would  happen  sooner  or  later.  Didn't  I  tell  you  a  year 
ago  you'd  see  this  town  come  lopin'  in  at  the  finish  three 
lengths  ahead,  one  o'  these  days  ?  Two  railroads !  D'yeh 
hear!  And  me  sittin'  here  try  in'  to  frame  up  what  I'd 
write  the  System  as  an  excuse  that'd  carry,  for  pullin' 
freight !  Croak !  You  bloomin'  mullet,  go  over  to  Jose's 
and  buy  his  bloody  place  before  he  finds  out.  You'll 
be  a  millionaire  yet.  All  of  us  will,  by  golly !  I'm  going 

147 


Sadie 

to  wire  to  Chi.  to-night  for  three  new  suits !  Skinny,  you'll 
see  silk  hats  in  this  town  yet,  and  there  won't  anybody 
shoot  at  'em  either!  D'ye  hear?  Silk  hats  in  Bagdad! 
Gawd!  And  when  we  go  down  to  San  Luis  we'll  have 
to  wear  dress  suits  if  we  want  to  slice  any  fruit " 

"  I  ain't  got  no  dress  suit,"  Robinson  glumly  com- 
plained. 

"  Git  one!  "  Billy  cried.  "  Why,  in  six  months  you'll 
have  so  much  money  you  can't  count  it !  " 

"Where's  it  at?" 

Skinny  chuckled  in  his  throat  and  coughed. 

Billy  snatched  up  his  hat. 

"Aw,  you  gimme  a  pain,"  he  sneered.  "  You're  a 
pair  of  shines !  Croakers !  That's  what  you  are ; 
croakers ! " 

And  with  that  he  fled  from  the  office  to  carry  the 
news  to  Bagdad. 

"  It  will  be  the  makin'  of  the  town,  though,"  Robinson 
(Declared.  "  Only  they's  no  use  flyin'  off  the  handle 
about  it." 

Skinny  nodded.  "  Great !  "  he  agreed.  "  Great !  No 
mistake  about  it.  Six  months  from  now  there'll  be  some- 
thing doing  here  'sides  spittin'  at  lizards." 

"  Funny  how  it  come,  wasn't  it?  "  Robinson  went  on. 
"  Right  while  we  was  settin'  here  kickin'." 

"  It's  always  that  way,"  Skinny  replied.  "  It's  jest 
as  you're  goin'  down  for  the  third  time  that  somebody 
shoves  you  a  plank." 

"  Come  so  kind  o'  sudden,  though,  it  knocked  my 
breath  out,"  the  other  laughed.  "  I'd  half  made  up  my 

148 


An  Intercepted  Message 

mind  to  blow,  too.  Looks  now,  though,  as  if  a  feller'd 
do  better  to  stay.  Wait  till  the  news  gets  'round." 

"  It'll  be  fine  for  you  fellers,"  Skinny  replied.    "  Fine." 

"  Us  fellers ! "  exclaimed  Robinson.  "Ain't  you  in 
it  jest  as  much  as  anybody  else?  " 

Skinny  was  looking  out  the  window,  so  Robinson 
couldn't  see  the  little  smile  that  for  a  moment  flickered 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Mebbe,"  was  the  slow  reply,  "  only  now't  kind  o* 
looks  like  I  might  be  leavin'  'fore  the  rush." 

"Aw,  what's  eatin'  yeh  ?  "  the  operator  growled,  the 
hidden,  deeper,  meaning  of  McGregor's  speech  apparently 
lost  upon  him. 

Skinny  rose,  stretched  luxuriously,  and  coughed.  .  .  . 
"  S'long." 

From  the  siding  he  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  window, 
and  said: 

"  They's  another  lizard  out  here ;  better  git  Billy  and 
practice  a  little." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

BAGDAD   BOOMS 

SADIE  was  writing  by  the  window  of  her  room  that 
overlooked   Main   Street   when  she  heard   Billy's 
swift  feet  on  the  stairs  as  he  mounted  them  three  steps 
at  a  time. 

"  Sadie !     O  Sadie !  "  he  called. 

"  In  here,"  she  answered,  closing  her  pad  and  thrust- 
ing her  pencil  in  her  pompadour.  "  Come  in,  it's  all 
right." 

"  Sure  you're  not  busy  ?  "  he  asked  as  he  pushed  back 
the  door  and  entered.  It  was  not  his  custom  thus  to  visit 
her  in  her  room,  and  she  wondered  what  could  have 
brought  him  now. 

"  Wasn't  doing  a  thing  but  scribbling  off  a  line  to  one 
of  the  girls  back  home,"  she  assured  him. 

He  tossed  his  hat  over  on  the  bed  and  seating  him- 
self in  the  other  chair  flecked  the  dust  from  his  shiny 
tan  shoes  with  a  lavender  handkerchief. 

"  The  one  you  told  me  about  ?  "  he  inquired. 

She  nodded.     "  Frances." 

"  Say,"  he  exploded,  thrusting  the  handkerchief  into 
the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat,  "  how  do  you  s'pose  she'd 
like  to  come  out  here?" 

Sadie  stared,  wide-eyed. 
150 


Bagdad  Booms 


"  Here !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  in  the  world  do  you 
mean,  Billy  ?  " 

He  smiled.  His  heart  that  moment  was  reflected  in 
his  eyes,  but  if  the  girl  saw  it  there  she  gave  no  sign. 

"  Just  that,"  was  his  vague  reply. 

Sadie  rose  and  stood  before  him,  her  hands  on  her 
smooth,  curved  hips.  Her  eyes  were  dancing. 

"  Now,  Billy  Thompson,  you  tell  me  exactly  what 
you  mean,"  she  commanded. 

He  crooked  his  arm  over  his  face  in  mock  defense, 
and  Sadie  laughed. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  insisted. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  replied  with  feebly  simulated  in- 
difference. "  Only  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  there'd  be  an 
opening  before  long." 

Sadie  sank  upon  the  bed,  her  hands  upon  her  knees. 

"  You  make  me  so  mad,  Billy  Thompson,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "  I  could  slap  you."  But  her  eyes  were  caressing. 

"Do  it!" 

Thrusting  forward  his  chin  and  gazing  boldly  at  her, 
"  Do  it,"  he  repeated,  "  right  there  " ;  and  he  indicated 
his  smooth,  boyish  cheek. 

A  delicate  wave  of  color  flowed  across  Sadie's  face 
and  she  bit  her  lip. 

"Anyway,"  she  declared,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  that 
shook  her  pompadour,  "  I  think  you're  just  as  mean  as 
you  can  be."  But  she  smiled,  and  the  sunlight  flooding 
the  room  glinted  from  the  gold  in  her  teeth. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said.  He  hitched  his 
chair  nearer  the  bed,  and  leaning  forward,  with  his  hands 
11  11 


Sadie 

clasped  between  his  knees,  went  on :  "  What  if  a  big 
strike,  a  corker  of  a  strike,  had  been  made  up  North?" 
He  hesitated,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  urged,  and  her  eyes  leaped. 

"And  what  if  all  of  a  sudden,  on  account  of  it,  the 
new  road — the  Salt  Lake  &  Gulf — had  changed  its  plans 
so  as  to " 

"  O  Billy !  "  she  cried,  springing  up,  "  it's  coming  to 
Bagdad!" 

Leaning  back  then  and  swelling  out  his  chest,  "  Uh 
huh,"  he  confirmed  proudly. 

"  Billy !  "  She  clasped  her  hands ;  every  fiber  of  her 
lithe  young  body  quivered.  "  That'll  mean " 

"  Mean ! "  he  cried,  on  his  feet  and  seizing  her  hand 
quite  as  if  some  of  her  own  enthusiasm  that  moment  had 
been  given  him  to  share.  "  It'll  mean  'most  anything. 
It'll  mean  this  town'll  take  a  boom.  The  rush'll  go  in 
from  here.  Look  at  what  Cripple  was,  and  Victor,  and 
Goldfield  and  Tonopah!  It'll  mean  Bagdad'll  beat  all 
those  shine  towns  to  a  custard  with  frostin'  on!  It'll 
boom,  Sadie;  boom  with  a  big  B!  I  wouldn't  even  be 
surprised  if  the  System  added  on  another  wing !  It'll  be 
great  only " 

"  Only  what,"  she  urged. 

"  Only  we'll  have  to  quit  ornamentin'  the  scenery  and 
turn  in  and  do  some  real  work.  And  we'll  need  more 
help.  Now  do  you  see  what  I  was  drivin'  at  'bout  the 
girl  back  in  K.  C.?" 

"  Won't  it  be  great !  "  she  cried. 

"  The  work  ?  "  he  interrupted. 
152 


Bagdad  Booms 


She  flung  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Fudge  on  the 
work !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  mean  Fan.  Having  her 
here,  and  all  that !  I'm  going  to  write  her  to-day,  in  this 
letter.  She'll  be  tickled  to  death !  " 

"  Would  she  come  ?  "  Billy  seemed  to  doubt. 

"  Come !  "  cried  Sadie.     "  Watch  her !  " 

"  I  wouldn't  get  her  all  fussed  up,"  he  cautioned. 
"  Maybe  you'd  better  wait  a  little." 

All  the  light  went  out  of  her  face. 

"  But  it's  going  to  happen,  Billy,  ain't  it ;  just  like 
you  said  ?  "  she  pleaded. 

"  It  is  unless  somebody's  a  damn — I  mean  an  awful 
liar,"  he  reassured  her. 

Then  the  light  flared  up  in  her  eyes  again,  and  with  a 
little  shudder  of  delight  she  declared: 

"  O  Billy !  I  could  just  hug  you !  " 

Billy  started,  then,  turning,  gazed  out  the  window. 
From  away  up  the  road  came  the  tinkle  of  a  mule  bell. 

"  Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I'm  waiting." 

"  What  for  ?  "  she  blankly  inquired. 

"  For  you  to  hug  me." 

She  took  a  step  toward  him  and  he  held  his  breath. 
But  she  came  no  nearer.  Studying  the  back  of  his  head 
an  instant,  she  said :  "  No,  I'm  not  going  to  either — yet. 
Maybe  it  won't  happen  after  all." 

His  laugh  as  he  turned  was  somewhat  forced  and 
hollow. 

"All  right,"  he  said  as  he  took  up  his  hat  and  smoothed 
the  lavender  band.  "  You'll  see.  Go  on ;  write  her  then, 
if  you  want — to-day." 

153 


Sadie 

After  he  had  gone  she  stood  for  a  minute  at  the 
window.  The  tinkle  of  the  mule  bell  was  closer  now, 
distinct  and  clear.  In  a  little  surge  of  memory  she  re- 
called how  she  had  stood  here  at  the  window,  on  her  first 
afternoon  in  Bagdad,  just  as  she  was  standing  now,  and 
heard  this  same  bell  across  the  glaring,  mote-shot  dis- 
tance. The  great  lumbering  outfit  emerged  from  its  dust 
cloud,  and  she  saw  the  driver,  sitting  loosely  at  ease,  on 
the  near  wheeler.  A  little  smile  curved  her  lips  and  for 
a  moment  she  closed  her  eyes.  When  she  opened  them 
the  outfit  had  passed.  A  second  great  cloud  of  dust  down 
the  road  showed  where  it  was — somewhere  within  the 
cloud. 

"  I  wonder  " — She  spoke  the  words  aloud — "  I  won- 
der if  she'd  ever  grow  to  love  it  out  here,  the  way  I 
have." 


And  so  Bagdad  heard  the  news. 

Jose  Fernandez  so  far  forgot  himself,  even,  as  to 
"  set  'em  up "  to  such  of  his  friends  as  entered  the 
"  Monte  "  that  afternoon,  Billy  among  them. 

"  It's  my  luck,"  the  latter  declared  as  Jose  pushed  the 
champagne  bottle  toward  him  across  the  bar,  and  he 
poured  from  it  into  the  thick,  tall  lemonade  glass.  "  Just 
when  I'm  getting  ready  to  blow  the  whole  show,  some- 
body tilts  the  bucket  and  '  color '  shows  in  the  wash. 
Here's  to  you,  Jose,  and  the  town." 

"  Dreenk  hearta,"  replied  the  Mexican.  "  Beesness 
she  peek  up  mebbe,  eh  ?  " 

154 


Bagdad  Booms 


"  Pick  up !  "  exclaimed  Billy.  "  You'll  have  to  put 
in  more  slot-machines  and  get  a  new  wheel." 

Fernandez's  little  eyes  became  mere  glittering  points, 
and  he  shook  his  bristly  head.  "  Mebbe  meechine,  no 
w'eel,  zat  ol'  w'eel  good  'nough."  Billy  wiped  his  mouth 
to  hide  the  smile.  "  Zat  leetla  Skinny  wonder  wi'  zat 
w'eel,"  he  declared — "  zat  w'eel." 

"  Why  don't  you  raise  his  wages  then  ?  "  Billy  asked. 
Obviously  such  a  course  had  never  occurred  to  the 
"  Monte's  "  shrewd  proprietor.  With  an  exclamation  he 
flung  down  his  bar  cloth  and  clapped  his  hands,  hands 
that  were  very  like  a  woman's.  "  B'  Gar  I  do  eet ! "  he 
declared.  "  I  do  eet  Sat'd'y  night,  b'  Gar !  Billy  Tho'son 
zat  good  idee.  I  do  eet.  Much  'blige.  Feenish  ze  bottle 
on  zat !  " 

And  Billy  did,  with  a  toast  to  Skinny  in  which  Fer- 
nandez joined,  and  all  the  afternoon  the  Mexican's  spirits 
remained  at  summer  heat.  None  knew  better  than  he 
what  the  new  road  and  the  new  strike  would  mean  to 
Bagdad — and  to  himself.  And  so,  in  the  ecstasy  that 
was  his,  he  called  to  Sadie  as  she  passed  the  "  Monte  " 
shortly  after  Billy's  departure,  on  her  way  to  Skinny's 
tent. 

"  You  heer  news  'bout  railroad,  Mees  Mor'son  ?  Eh, 
yes  ?  You  come  have  dreenk,  too !  " 

Laughing,  she  refused. 

Fernandez's  little  eyes  opened  to  their  greatest  width. 
"  B'  Gar !  "  he  cried,  grasping  her  wrist,  "  I  mos'  forgeet. 
'Member  one  day  long  time  'go,  you  say  you  spin  zat 
w'eel  ?  By  Gar,  w'en  you  comin'  do  eet  ?  " 

155 


Sadie 

"  Oh,  I've  not  forgotten,  Mr.  Fernandez,"  she  as- 
sured him.  "  I'm  coming  one  of  these  days " 

"  No,  no,"  he  interrupted  hastily.  "  Not  day,  not  day. 
Come  night.  Beeg  crowd !  Grea'  beeg  crowd !  "  And 
he  waved  his  short  arms  to  indicate  the  vast,  tireless  sand 
wheel  of  which,  to  him,  the  "  Monte  "  was  the  hub. 

Sadie  laughed.  "  You'll  see,"  she  flung  back  over 
her  shoulder.  "  I'll  come  when  you  least  expect  me." 

And  until  she  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the 
Yellow  Dog  the  Mexican  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his 
empty  place  gazing  at  her. 

"  By  Gar,"  he  muttered  as  he  turned  back  into  the 
bar,  "  zat  Mees  Mor'son  she  be  fine  girl."  For  Fernandez 
was  not  the  one  to  forget  how  Sadie  had  come  to  him 
when  most  a  woman's  hand  was  needed  in  his  stricken 
house.  And  was  not  little  Jose,  whose  tiny  life  she  had 
saved,  at  this  very  moment  kicking  up  his  heels  in  glee 
on  the  floor  of  the  'dobe — over  there  ?  Fernandez  shook 
his  head  and  smiled,  and  his  little,  beady  eyes  grew  moist, 
for  he  was  not  the  sort  that  forgets. 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  low-ceiled,  smoke- 
grimed  room,  he  looked  about  him.  Displeasure  with 
what  he  beheld  was  written  large  upon  his  swarthy  face. 

On  the  stained  and  whittled  table  near  the  door  lay  a 
dog-eared  copy  of  the  Police  Gazette.  Ranged  back 
against  the  wall  across  from  the  sodden,  time-worn  bar — 
with  its  bent  footrail,  under  which  squatted  half  a  dozen 
sand-filled,  wooden  cuspidors — stood  a  battery  of  tall, 
slim  slot-machines,  their  glaring,  varicolored  disks 
twinkling  in  the  sunlight  which  managed  to  sift  through 

156 


Bagdad  Booms 


the  dust-frosted  windows.  They  were  all  of  the  quarter, 
half-dollar,  and  dollar  variety,  for  the  nickel  machine  of 
Eastern  civilization  was  unknown  in  Bagdad.  At  the 
back  of  the  room,  beneath  a  huge  oil  lamp,  pendant  from 
the  smoke-black  ceiling  by  triple  chains,  was  the  faro 
layout,  dull  green  in  the  shadow  now.  The  case  frame 
hung  on  a  hook  above,  and  behind,  slightly  higher  than 
the  dealer's  seat,  was  the  lookout's  chair.  Near  the 
door,  where  the  light  was  strongest,  was  the  roulette 
wheel  of  rosewood,  birdseye  maple  and  ash,  the  little 
ivory  ball  lying  in  a  cup  at  the  bottom.  Against  the 
wall,  all  the  way  round  the  room,  were  numerous  curled 
and  crinkled  lithographs,  for  the  greater  part  of  half- 
draped  female  figures,  advertising  all  the  brands  of  liquor 
dispensed  at  the  bar,  but  more  that  were  not.  Across 
from  the  slot  machines  hung,  at  an  angle,  a  long,  wide 
mirror,  on  which,  weeks  before,  a  vagrant  artist  had 
painted  in  different  colored  soaps,  by  way  of  payment  for 
a  drunk  vouchsafed  him,  the  life-size  figure  of  an  unclad 
woman,  reposing  rigidly  upon  a  bank  of  vivid  moss. 
The  mirror,  later,  had  been  covered  with  blue  mosquito 
netting,  pulled  to  stiff  rosettes  at  the  corners.  Through 
this  screen  the  lines  of  the  uncomfortable  lady  on  the 
glass  lost  something  of  their  harshness.  The  floor  be- 
neath Fernandez's  feet,  laid  flat  on  the  sand,  was  splin- 
tered in  places,  and  uneven. 

The  eyes  of  the  Mexican  perceived  every  detail  of  the 
room,  and  his  opinion,  uttered  aloud  at  last,  was: 

"  Dees  dump  gotta  be  feexed  up.     She  look  damn 
bad!" 

157 


Sadie 

Later  he  took  Skinny  into  his  confidence  and  between 
them  they  planned  a  new  scheme  of  decoration  which 
comprised  whitewashing  the  walls  and  ceiling,  changing 
the  netting  over  the  mirror  to  pink,  and  writing  to  Mil- 
waukee and  Louisville  for  newer,  placards,  the  latter  of 
which  Skinny  forthwith  did,  while  upon  Mrs.  Fernandez 
devolved  the  duty  of  providing  the  mosquito  bar  of  the 
desired  shade. 

"  But  there's  no  telling,"  suggested  Skinny,  as  he 
folded  the  letter,  "  that  it's  going  to  happen  like  we 
think  it  is.  Nobody's  heard  a  word  to  confirm  that 
telegram  Robinson  caught.  Mebbe  its  foolishness  to  go 
to  so  much  trouble  after  all." 

This  had  not  occurred  to  Jose,  and  for  a  moment  he 
was  startled,  but  he  had  not  ordered  the  whitewashing 
as  yet,  and  he  rejoiced. 

However,  confirmation  was  not  slow  in  coming.  It 
was  brought  on  Friday  by  Al  Tunnison,  the  gaunt,  blue- 
eyed  proprietor  of  the  Palace  Hotel,  at  Cottonwood.  He 
had  received  the  news  direct.  There  could  be  no  error, 
for  at  that  moment  the  private  car  of  the  vice-president  of 
the  S.  L.  &  G.,  lay  on  the  siding  directly  in  front  of  the 
Palace. 

"  Yessir,"  he  declared  to  Billy,  "  it's  all  true.  And 
that's  why  I  come  over — t'  talk  to  you  'bout  it,  I  mean. 
It's  Allie's  idee,  though;  don't  know's  I'd  ever  figgered 
it  out."  And  he  bit  a  half  moon  from  the  pound  plug 
of  Battle-Axe  that  projected  from  the  hip  pocket  of  his 
corduroys.  They  were  seated  in  the  shade  of  the  spraw- 
ling water  tank  on  the  high  pile  of  ties  behind.  Tunnison 

158 


Bagdad  Booms 


had  hinted  that  the  purpose  of  his  visit  was  important, 
and  that  he  did  not  wish  it  known,  so  Billy  had  taken 
him  there.  He  had  come  over  on  No.  4,  and  must  leave, 
he  announced,  on  No.  5. 

His  chew  well  moistened,  modeled,  and  stowed  in 
his  cheek,  he  continued: 

"  Billy,  it's  like  this  here.  Bagdad's  shore  goin'  t' 
boom.  I've  bin  out  here  on  the  aidge  o'  Hades  long 
'nough  t'  know  what  a  real  gold  strike  an'  two  railroads 
means  to  a  town.  It  means  money."  He  spat  sparsely 
and  looking  up  inquired :  "  What  they  payin'  you  out 
here,  Billy?" 

Thompson  laughed.  "  It  don't  make  my  pants  baggy 
to  carry  it,"  he  replied,  then  told  him. 

A  moment  Tunnison  pondered,  expectorating  at  a 
bush  of,  grease  weed,  twenty  feet  away. 

"  'Taint  what  you'd  call  a  princely  income,  is  it  ?  "  he 
observed. 

The  other  was  compelled  to  agree  that  it  was  not. 

"  But  there  ain't  much  to  do,  you  know,  Al,"  he 
added  defensively. 

Tunnison  nodded.  "  Could  do  a  little  more'f  yeh  hed 
to,  couldn't  yeh  ? "  he  inquired  blandly.  "  Wouldn't 
be  ag'in'  gittin'  better  money  if  yeh  didn't  hev  t'  over- 
work yerself,  would  yeh?" 

Billy  laughed  and  wondered.  "  I  don't  believe  I'd 
bust  a  blood  vessel  fightin'  against  it,  Al,"  he  replied. 

"  Thought  not,"  Tunnison  declared,  and  spat  again 
at  the  bush  of  greaseweed.  "  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  it's 
all  about.  Ever  sence  we  heard  the  news  Allie'n  me's 

159 


Sadie 

been  figgerin' !  Night  'fore  las'  she  ups  an'  says,  '  Al,' 
she  says,  '  why'n  hell  don't  you  git  up  there  t'  Bagdad 
a-kitin','  she  says, '  an'  git  in  on  the  groun'  floor  ? '  '  How 
d'yeh  mean  ? '  I  says.  '  Hotel,'  says  she ;  an'  by  golly 
I  laid  awake  half  th'  night  figgerin'  it  out.  Then  the 
next  mornin'  at  breakfas'  she  come  at  me  ag'in.  '  I  got 
it,  Al/  she  says,  all  of  a  sudden — you  know  how  she  is? 
'Well,  what  is  it?'  I  says.  'Make  Billy '—only  she 
called  you  '  Mister ' — '  Make  Mr.  Thompson  manager,' 
says  she;  and  by  golly,  Billy,  it  was  jest  what  hed  bin 
pesterin'  me — who'd  run  her  if  I  sh'u'd  open  her  up. 
An'  Allie'd  hit  the  nail  square  on  the  head  jest  like 
she  was  buildin'  a  sidewalk !  "  Shifting  his  chew  he 
searched  Thompson's  face.  "  Well,  wha'  d'yeh  say  ?  "  he 
asked. 

The  smile  had  fled  from  Billy's  eyes  and  he  was 
studying  the  toes  of  his  russet  shoes. 

"Al,"  he  answered  slowly,  "  I'm  much  obliged ;  to  you 
and  Allie  both,  only " 

"'Fraid  the  Carter  folks  won't  let  you  off?"  Tun- 
nison  growled.  "  Got  a  contrac',  or  somethin'  ?  " 

Billy  shook  his  head.  "It  ain't  that,  Al;  I  was  just 
thinking,  that's  all."  He  looked  up,  smiling  wistfully. 
"  You  see,  I'd  almost  decided  to  leave  Bagdad.  No,  it 
ain't  the  System." 

"  What's  eatin'  yeh,  then  ?  "  snapped  Tunnison,  testily. 

Billy  laughed  again.  "  Go  on,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

"Ain't  I  jest  tol'  yeh?  "  complained  the  other.  "  Say, 
look  here.  Ain't  I  run  th'  Palace,  over't  Cottonwood 

160 


Bagdad  Booms 


fer  goin'  on  ten  years?  An'  ain't  I  made  it  pay?  I 
know  it  ain't  been  no  gold  mine,  really,  but  by  golly  it's 
a  dum  sight  better'n  a  lot  o'  gold  mines  you'n  I've  heard 
tell  of.  Well,  if  a  hotel  can  be  made  t'  pay  in  Cotton- 
wood  caterin'  to  a  lot  o'  sheeps,  can't  one  be  made  t'  pay 
a  heap  sight  more  in  a  town  like  what  Bagdad's  goin' 
t'  be?" 

"Then  you  mean  you'd  operate  both  places?"  Billy 
put  in. 

"  Shore  I  w'u'd,"  Tunnison  exclaimed.  "  That's  t' 
say,  I'd  stay  on  over't  Cottonwood  an'  you'd  run  th' 
Palace — better  call  it  that,  hedn't  we? — here'n  Bagdad. 
'Course  I'll  put  up  all  the  money." 

"  Now  you're  talking,  Al,"  Billy  cried. 

A  look  of  deep  disgust  swept  over  the  lined  and 
brown-tanned  countenance  of  the  man  beside  him. 
"  Good  Lord,  that  wasn't  what  was  eatin'  yeh,  was  it  ?  " 
he  exploded.  "  Well,  I'll  be  durned !  Shore  I'll  put  up 
th'  money;  all  of  it.  Ain't  I  jest  said  th'  Palace'd  been 
better'n  a  lot  of  gold  mines  ?  And  what's  more,  I'll  pay 
you  two  hundred  a  month  t'  run  it;  and  if  that  ain't 
enough  I'll  fix  up  a  percentage." 

For  a  space  Billy  did  not  answer,  then,  reaching  out 
his  hand,  he  declared:  "Al,  you're  the  goods.  You're 
all  there.  You're  the  kind  of  a  friend,  old  man,  a  feller 
likes  to  have  and  don't — very  often.  I'll  take  you " 

"  Good !  "  Tunnison  slapped  his  leg,  but  Billy  lifted 
his  hand. 

"  — on  one  condition,"  he  added. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  the  other  growled. 
161 


Sadie 

"  I  can't  tell  you  to-day,  Al,"  was  the  reply.  "  But 
I'll  find  out  and  wire  you  in  the  morning.  Will  that  do?  " 

Tunnison  pursed  his  thin,  dry  lips. 

"  Looks  like  it  Vd  hev  t',"  was  the  disgruntled,  retort. 

"Shake,  then!" 

And  across  the  ties  their  hands  met. 

"  But,  Al,"  Billy  resumed  after  a  moment,  "  it'll  pay 
a  heap  better  here  than  the  Palace  in  Cottonwood ;  why 
don't  you  sell  out  clean  down  there,  and  run  the  new 
house  yourself  ?  " 

For  a  long  time  Tunnison  stared  blankly,  rumina- 
tively,  at  the  greaseweed  bush.  "  It's  on  account  o* 
Allie,"  he  replied  at  last,  and  in  his  voice  there  was  a 
new  note;  one,  perhaps,  of  paternal  tenderness. 

Billy  Thompson  nodded.  "  I  see,"  he  said,  but  he 
didn't,  quite,  for  all  that. 

"  Over  here,"  Tunnison  ran  on  dreamily,  "  they  all 
know  what — what  Allie  was,  and — and  mebbe  they 
wouldn't  quite  treat  her  like — like — they  oughter.  Yeh 
see,  Billy — "  he  turned  and  in  his  clear,  clean,  steel-blue 
eyes  Billy  Thompson  saw  burning  the  fires  of  life — "  me'n 
Allie's  got  it  framed  up — they  don't  anybody  know  'bout 
it,  yet — but  we're  goin'  t'  be  married — Billy — me'n 
Allie " 

He  got  no  further.  Impulsively  Thompson  had 
seized  his  great,  hard  hand,  a  second  time. 

"Al,  I'm  mighty  glad ;  I  can't  tell  you  how  glad ! " 

"  Seemed  t'  be  'bout  the  wisest  thing  t'  do,"  Tunnison 
added. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  let  Sadie  know,  Al  ?  "  Billy  asked. 
162 


Bagdad  Booms 


"  Yeh  mean  Miss  Morrison  ?  Not  if  you  wanta ;  I 
got  an  idee  Allie'd  be  kind  o'  glad  fer  her  t'  know." 

But  Allie  could  not  have  been  more  glad  for  that  than 
Sadie  was  to  hear.  After  supper  she  came  out  where 
Thompson  was  sitting  in  front  of  the  eating  house.  He 
told  her  then  and  when  he  had  done  so  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes  and  her  voice  trembled  the  least  bit  as  she 
said: 

"  Billy,  that's  a  lot  better,  even,  than  the  other  news." 

She  looked  very  fresh  and  desirable  in  her  white 
waist  and  skirt,  and  the  heart  of  Billy  Thompson  quick- 
ened as  he  contemplated  her. 

"Al  made  me  a  proposition  to  manage  the  hotel  he's 
going  to  put  up  here  in  Bagdad,"  he  announced,  blankly, 
after  a  moment. 

"  Billy !  "  Sadie  exclaimed,  then  caught  herself  and 
inquired  with  seeming  indifference,  "  Would  you  leave  the 
System,  then  ?  " 

"  I'd  have  to,"  he  told  her.  "  I  said  to  Al  there  was 
a  condition,  and  promised  him  I'd  let  him  know  in  the 
morning." 

"  It  would  be  a  lot  better  than  this,  wouldn't  it  ? " 
she  asked  quietly. 

"A  lot."     He  was  rolling  a  cigarette. 

"  Then  of  course  you'll  take  it,  won't  you  ?  "  She  was 
conscious  of  the  different  note  in  her  voice  and  looked 
away. 

He  bent  the  end  of  his  cigarette  and  felt  for  a  match. 

"  It's  up  to  you,  Sadie,"  was  his,  to  her,  enigmatic 
answer. 

163 


Sadie 

She  caught  her  breath  and  her  hand  went  to  her  lips. 
They  were  quite  alone,  and  now,  she  told  herself,  it  was 
his  purpose  to  give  voice  to  what  long  since  she  had 
seen  in  his  eyes. 

"  I — I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Billy,"  she  said 
hesitatingly. 

"  I  wouldn't  take  it  unless  you'd  go,  too." 

She  bit  her  lip.  There  was  nothing  she  could  say 
that  would  prevent — now. 

"  What— what  to  do,  Billy?  " 

He  struck  the  match.  In  its  yellow  flare  he  saw  her 
face,  clear  in  the  purple  shadow  frame  surrounding  it. 
He  leaned  toward  her,  reached  out  to  take  her  hand — 
the  match,  forgotten,  burned  to  his  fingers.  With  a 
smothered  exclamation  he  sat  up  and  flung  it  out  upon 
the  track. 

"  To  be  housekeeper,  with  three  dollars  more  a  week 
than  you're  getting  here,"  he  blurted  impatiently. 

Her  eyes  danced  and  she  drew  a  deep  breath  of 
relief. 

He  felt  her  hand  light  upon  his  arm. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to,  Billy  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"All  right." 

He  unhooked  his  heels  from  the  rung  of  the  chair. 
"  I'll  wire  Al  in  the  morning,"  he  said.  It  was  as  if  he 
were  looking  into  her  face  still,  as  it  had  been  revealed 
to  him  in  the  yellow  flare.  He  was  keenly  conscious 
that  never  before  had  he  come  so  near  to  telling  her  all 
that  lay  deep  within  his  heart  of  hearts. 

164 


Bagdad  Booms 


"  Billy " — Her  voice  sounded  close  to  his  ear,  so 
close  that  were  he  to  turn  his  head  his  lips  would 
brush  hers. 

"What  is  it?"     He  held  rigid. 

"  Light  another  match  and  let  me  see  if  you  burned 
your  ringer." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

SKINNY   TELLS   A   STORY 

WITHIN  a  fortnight  work  on  the  Palace  was  well 
under  way.  Wisely,  Tunnison  had  left  the 
selection  of  site  and  all  superintendence  to  Thompson. 
The  latter  was  on  the  ground,  and,  as  the  former  said, 
he  had  troubles  of  his  own,  down  the  line.  The  location 
according  to  Billy — who  made  the  assertion  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye — was  "  the  best  in  the  city,  right  in 
the  heart  of  the  business  district  on  Main  Street."  That 
more  genius  than  even  he  possessed  would  have  been 
required  to  select  a  site  that  was  not  in  the  "  business 
district "  and  on  Main  Street,  provided  it  was  the  desire 
to  have  the  hotel  in  Bagdad  at  all,  was  not  deemed  worth 
mentioning. 

In  any  event  the  Palace  would,  as  was  his  boast,  be 
an  ornament  to  the  town.  The  fagade  was  to  be  of 
galvanized  iron,  and  across  the  front  in  relief  letters, 
two  feet  high,  it  would  sport  the  name,  "  The  Palace," 
a  specimen  of  hostelry  nomenclature  without  which,  it 
may  be  noted  in  passing,  no  Southwestern  town  can  be 
said  to  be  complete.  At  first  Billy  had  suggested  "  The 
Tunnison,"  as  more  snappy  and  up-to-date,  but  Al's 
modest  nature  shrank  from  such  personal  exploitation. 
"  Besides,"  he  added,  "  they  can't  nobody  tell  but  what 

166 


Skinny  Tells  a  Story 


mebbe  I  might  have  t'  change  m'  name,  an'  if  I  should 
it'd  mean  we'd  have  t'  git  a  new  front." 

The  effect  from  the  railway  would  be  that  of  a  solid 
granite  structure,  three  stories  in  height,  albeit  the  third 
story  was  indicated  solely  by  the  "bluff  front."  From 
the  rear,  whence  no  one  save  an  occasional  sheepman  or 
wandering  Mexican  approached,  the  true  nature  of  the 
deception  was  at  once  apparent.  Furthermore,  the  im- 
agination of  the  architect,  a  carpenter  from  Cottonwood, 
had  not  thus  far  been  able  to  conceive  three  real  stories. 
Within  the  four  wood  walls  the  arrangement  was  to  be 
that  of  the  eating  house,  that  is  to  say  the  partitions 
were  to  rise  only  three-quarters  the  distance  to  the 
ceiling. 

"  It's  the  simplest  system  of  ventilation  ever  discov- 
ered," Billy  explained  to  Skinny  one  afternoon. 

"  Hadn't  ought  to  be  much  trouble  'bout  gettin'  air 
whatever  way  you  do  it,"  Skinny  replied,  "  there  ain't 
much  of  anything  else  out  here  to  get." 

"And  from  the  front,"  Billy  went  on  soberly,  "  she'll 
be  a  regular  skyscraper." 

"  Careful  you  don't  get  her  top-heavy,"  was  the  warn- 
ing reply. 

From  where  they  sat,  in  Skinny's  tent,  the  work  of 
construction  could  be  watched  with  comfort,  and  since 
the  beginning  Billy  had  spent  more  time  with  the  little 
gambler  than  ever  before. 

"  But  I'm  glad  she's  going  up,  Billy,"  the  latter  de- 
clared, "and  right  where  she  is,  too.  It's  the  most 
excitin'  thing  that's  happened  in  Bagdad  since  the  night 
12  167 


Sadie 

Sadie  held  up  Red  Lawton — and  I  can  see  it  all  sittin' 
here,  just  by  pinnin'  that  flap  back." 

Billy  suggested  that  it  might  be  feasible  to  appoint 
Skinny  supervising  architect,  whereat  the  latter  laughed 
and  replied: 

"  That's  right.  Anything  I  can  do  to  earn  a  livin* 
without  movin's  the  thing  for  me.  'Sides  nobody  knows 
how  much  graft  there  may  be  in  that  marble  work. 
Bought  the  stuff  for  the  inside  yet,  Billy  ?  " 

"Al's  gettin'  it  in  Phoenix,"  was  the  reply.  "  Iron 
beds  and  washstands  and  white  chairs  and  the  bar  stuff. 
I've  written  to  Detroit  about  the  slot  machines  and  a 
concern  in  Chicago — somewhere  on  Lake  Street — 's  fix- 
in'  up  the  wheel  and  the  layouts." 

"Going  t'  gimme  a  job,  Billy?  I'm  a  humdinger 
when  it  comes  to  copping  the  coin  for  the  house  on  the 
wheel." 

Thompson  turned,  staring.  "  By  golly,  Skinny,"  he 
exclaimed,  slapping  his  leg,  "  I  never  thought  of  it. 
'Course  I  will.  Sure !  " 

McGregor  smiled  mistily  and  shook  his  head. 
"  'Fraid  Jose  wouldn't  know  what  to  do,"  he  replied. 
"  Mebbe  he's  had  an  idea  I  was  going  t'  leave,  for  he  tilted 
my  wages  couple  o'  weeks  ago." 

Thompson  remembered,  then,  and  looked  away 
through  the  A  of  the  tent  entrance. 

"  We'll  see  later,"  he  said. 

"  Have  you  resigned  from  the  System,  yet  ?  "  Skinny 
inquired. 

Thompson  shook  his  head.  "  Not  yet,"  he  replied. 
168 


Skinny  Tells  a  Story 


"  Going  to  wait  till  'bout  two  weeks  'fore  we  open.  I've 
written  'em  about  the  Palace,  though.  Wouldn't  won- 
der if  they  surmised.  I  advised  'em  to  close  the  eating 
house,  but  they  won't,  not  with  two  railroads  here.  Prob- 
ably shift  somebody  from  somewhere  else.  I'm  going 
to  take  Charley  later  if  he'll  come,  and  Al's  got  a  couple 
of  greaser  girls  down  t'  Cottonwood  he's  going  to  send 
over  till  Sadie's  pal  can  blow  from  Kansas  City.  She 
said  there's  one  there  that'd  like  to  come  out  and  I  told 
her  to  write  her  and  see.  She  says  she's  a  peach." 

"  Probably  be  married  'fore  she's  been  here  fifteen 
minutes,"  Skinny  prophesied. 

"  That's  the  trouble,"  Billy  agreed.  He  looked  down 
and  slapped  his  tan  puttees  with  the  quirt  he  carried. 
"  Still,  that's  what  we  said  about  Sadie,"  he  added. 

"  There  ain't  many  like  Sadie,"  Skinny  observed. 

Billy  looked  up  then  and  his  eyes  met  McGregor's 
squarely. 

"  There  ain't  any  like  her,"  he  corrected. 

Thereupon  between  them  ensued  a  period  of  silence. 
It  was  as  if  thought  of  Sadie  and  the  mention  of  her 
name  had  cast  a  spell  from  which  neither  desired  to 
escape.  It  was  Skinny  who  broke  the  silence  at  last. 

"  When  do  you  s'pose  you'll  lay  the  cornerstone  ?  " 
he  inquired,  a  twinkle  coming  back  into  his  sunken 
eyes. 

Billy  sat  up.  "  Mebbe  three  weeks,"  he  replied. 
"  Time  the  railroad  gets  near  enough  to  make  it  inter- 
esting, and  the  news  of  the  strike  sifts  through." 

"  Coin'  to  have  a  dedication  ?  "  Skinny  asked.  He 
169 


Sadie 

chuckled  and  coughed,  then  laughed  aloud.  "  I  was  just 
thinkin',"  he  explained  apologetically. 

"'Bout  what?" 

"  'Bout  the  time  they  dedicated  St.  Aloysius  Mission, 
back  in  Cleveland.  Didn't  I  ever  tell  you  t>out  that?" 
He  grinned  broadly,  and  the  infection  of  his  grin  spread 
to  Thompson's  countenance. 

Billy  shook  his  head  and  edged  the  box  on  which  he 
was  sitting  nearer  Skinny's  steamer  chair.  "  What  about 
it?"  he  urged. 

"  Gimme  a  cigarette  and  I'll  tell  you." 

The  "  makin's  "  were  produced  from  the  hip  pocket 
of  Thompson's  khaki  breeches.  Slowly — aggravatingly 
slowly — Skinny  performed  the  ceremony  of  rolling  the 
flake  in  the  bit  of  brown  paper.  The  cigarette  fairly 
alight  at  last  he  shifted  his  position  slightly,  blew  a  ring, 
thrust  a  long,  slim  forefinger  through  it,  and  said : 

"  It  was  what  Jerry  Rowley 'd  call  a  suspicious  occa- 
sion— him  bein'  some  loose  with  English.  Father  Foley 
was  t'  blame,  b'  rights.  If  he  hadn't  welted  Mickey  over 
the  side  o'  the  head  with  a  shavin'  strap  just  because 
Mickey 'd  let  a  dornick  fly  through  the  pantry  window  of 
the  parish  house  b'  mistake,  prob'ly  it  wouldn't  ever  have 
happened.  Mickey  lived  with  his  aunt.  His  mother'd 
been  a  Catholic  'fore  she  died  and  his  old  man  was,  too. 
But  he  was  away  on  the  section  'most  all  the  time,  and 
Mickey's  foot  sorter  slipped.  His  aunt  didn't  care,  or 
if  she  did  she  couldn't  say  anything,  for  her  foot'd  slipped, 
too,  when  she  got  a  divorce  from  Mickey's  mother's 
brother.  He  didn't  mean  to  heave  the  dornick,  though. 

170 


Skinny  Tells  a  Story 


Said  afterwards  he  was  throwin'  at  a  squirrel,  but  he 
was  in  Father  Foley's  back  yard  and  it  looked  bad. 
Father  Foley  came  flyin'  'round  the  corner  of  the  house 
just  as  the  glass  smashed  in  the  pantry.  He'd  been 
shavin'  and  one  side  of  his  face  was  all  lather.  He  didn't 
have  his  collar  on,  or  his  coat,  and  his  suspenders  were 
hangin'  down.  I  guess  he  was  in  his  stockin'  feet,  too, 
for  it  was  early  one  Saturday  mornin'.  Mickey  was  so 
s'prised  he  didn't  even  try  to  get  away ;  just  stood  there, 
laffin'.  Father  Foley  forgot  half  his  face  was  all  lather, 
and  when  he  brushed  his  hand  over  it  he  got  a  mouthful. 
He  began  sputterin'  like  a  soda  fountain,  and  Mickey 
laffed  some  more.  Father  Foley  forgot  all  about  the 
window.  He  was  mad  clean  through.  He  made  one  le'p, 
spittin'  lather  like  he  had  hydrophobia,  and  swung  the 
razor  strop  he  was  carryin'  and  let  Mickey  have  it. 
Caught  him  right  Alongside  the  head,  hook  'n'  all.  He 
quit  laffin'  then  and  let  out  a  yell  they  heard  clear  up  to 
No.  6  engine  house,  and  made  for  the  fence.  It  was 
a  tight  board  one,  and  Mickey  said  afterwards  he  didn't 
even  touch  it  goin'  over.  I  guess  he  lied,  though,  for  it 
was  all  of  six  feet  high.  Safe  on  the  other  side  he  knelt 
down  and  looked  through  a  knot  hole.  Father  Foley 
was  standin'  in  the  middle  of  the  yard,  holdin'  up  his 
pants  with  one  hand,  and  diggin'  the  lather  out  of  his 
mouth  and  eyes  with  the  other.  Mickey  always  said 
he  was  swearin'  under  his  breath,  but  I  don't  believe 
that.  By  and  by  he  went  back  in,  and  Mickey  he  just 
sat  right  down  there  by  that  knot  hole  and  commenced  to 
figure.  You  see  he  didn't  have  anything  to  worry  about. 

171 


Sadie 

He'd  quit  wearin'  his  scapular  three  or  four  weeks  be- 
fore, and  Father  Foley  was  just  like  anybody  else  as  far 
as  he  was  concerned.  His  foot  had  slipped  that  bad. 

"  He  crossed  his  heart  he'd  get  even,  and  when  they 
dedicated  St.  Aloysius  Mission  he  had  the  chance  he'd 
been  waitin'  for. 

"He'n  Ernie  did  it " 

"  Who  was  Ernie — his  brother  ? "  Billy  inquired, 
grinning. 

Skinny  shook  his  head,  and  flecked  the  ash  from  his 
cigarette. 

"  Chicken,"  he  explained  tersely. 

"A  chicken ! "  cried  Thompson  blankly. 

Skinny  nodded.  "  Uh  huh.  I  d'know  where  he  got 
the  name,  but  that's  what  he  always  called  him — Ernie. 
And  a  gamer  bantam  never  lived.  He  had  blood  in 
his  little  button  eyes  all  the  time,  and  a  pair  of  spurs  that 
looked  like  steer's  horns,  growin'  out  of  his  ankles. 
Mickey  pitted  him  lots  of  times,  and  he  had  a  record 
as  a  killer  that'd  make  Geronimo's  look  like  a  Sunday- 
school  lesson  in  kindness.  Those  were  the  days  when 
all  the  kids  had  fightin'  chickens,  or  pigeons,  or  white 
mice ;  you  remember  ?  " 

Billy  laughed.     "  I  had  rabbits,"  he  said.     "  Go  on." 

"  Well,  for  two  days  before  the  dedication,  Mickey 
starved  Ernie.  He  could  have  eat  shoe  pegs,  he  was 
so  hungry.  The  ceremony  was  set  for  two  o'clock  and 
the  Bishop  was  to  be  there. 

"  It  was  a  nice,  warm  day  in  June — 'long  about  the 
last,  if  I  remember  right.  It  took  Mickey  'bout  an  hour 

172 


Skinny  Tells  a  Story 


to  get  Ernie  ready.  He'd  figured  it  all  out,  you  see.  He 
tied  the  end  of  a  ball  of  string  to  one  of  Ernie's  legs  and 
unwound  about  a  hundred  feet  of  it.  Then  he  put  Ernie 
under  his  coat,  chokin'  him  so's  he  couldn't  crow,  and 
sneaked  up  behind  the  Mission.  The  workmen  had  left 
a  cellar  window  open  and  Mickey  crawled  through.  He 
wasn't  in  there  more'n  two  minutes,  but  when  he  came 
out  he  didn't  have  Ernie,  only  the  string.  He  paid  off 
the  hundred  feet  of  it  clear  over  to  the  fence  and  poked 
the  end  with  a  stick  through  a  gimlet  hole  he'd  bored. 
Then  he  crawled  over  the  fence,  and  tied  the  string  to 
a  piece  of  coal  so's  it  couldn't  slip  through  and  went 
'round  in  front  where  the  folks  were  commencing  to  go 
in.  By  ten  minutes  past  two  the  place  was  filled  full. 
All  the  windows  were  open,  and  sittin'  behind  the  fence, 
with  his  eye  to  the  gimlet  hole  and  the  string  in  his 
hand,  Mickey  could  hear  everything  that  went  on 
inside  just  as  plain  as  though  he  was  among  those 
present." 

A  spasm  of  coughing  seized  the  story  teller,  and  when 
it  had  passed  he  lay  back,  inert  and  pale,  in  the  steamer 
chair,  with  his  eyes  closed. 

Thompson  leaned  over  him.  "  Is  there  anything  I 
can  get  you,  Skinny?"  he  asked. 

The  little  fellow's  head  moved  weakly  from  side 
to  side. 

"  One  -  of  -  those  -  is  -  going  -  to  -  get  -  me  -  sometime,"  he 
whispered  raspingly.  Then  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
looked  up  into  Billy's,  smiling.  "  Sit  down,"  he  said, 
"  the  finish  is  the  best  part  of  it." 

173 


Sadie 

Once  his  breath  caught  in  his  throat.  That  he  was 
in  pain  was  indicated  by  the  way  his  thin  ringers  curled 
into  the  palms  of  his  transparent  hands. 

"  There  was  a  little  organ,"  he  went  on  in  a  half- 
whisper,  "  and  Margaret  Delaney  played  it.  Mebbe  you 
don't  know  it,  Billy,  but  it's  a  fact  that  a  chicken  never 
crows  in  the  dark  unless  something  happens  to  worry  it. 
But  Mickey  knew  that,  you  can  bet  your  life.  Margaret 
had  just  finished  the  first  piece  when  Mickey  gave  the 
string  a  little,  quick  jerk.  It  worked.  Ernie  cut  loose. 
He  let  out  a  crow  that  surprised  even  Mickey.  Folks 
that  were  inside  said  everybody  jumped  like  they'd 
touched  a  live  wire.  The  Bishop  gave  Father  Foley  a 
look,  they  said,  that  made  his  face  turn  as  red  as  a  Ham- 
burg steak.  All  was  still  for  a  while  and  then  Father 
Foley  got  up.  Mickey  give  the  string  another  jerk  and 
Ernie  handed  out  some  more.  The  folks  jumped  again. 
You  see,  they'd  thought  the  first  time  was  an  accident 
and  weren't  lookin'  for  an  encore.  Father  Foley  got  so 
rattled  the  Bishop  called  him  down  right  there  in  front 
of  everybody.  He  was  boilin'  inside  that  hard  if  you'd 
'a'  stuck  a  pin  in  him  he'd  'a'  hissed  like  a  leaky  radiator. 
Then  for  a  few  minutes  Mickey  didn't  pull  the  string. 
Everything  got  quiet  again  and  the  folks  settled  them- 
selves comfortable  to  hear  the  Bishop.  He  was  sailin' 
along  in  great  shape,  only  touchin'  the  high  places,  when 
Mickey  sent  another  telegram  to  Ernie.  Ernie  took  it 
right  hot  off  the  wire  and  delivered  the  goods  again, 
two  or  three  times  with  one  breath.  His  Reverence  col- 
lapsed like  a  bicycle  tire  when  it  hits  a  tack — and  set 

174 


Skinny  Tells  a  Story 


down.  After  that  there  was  no  holding  the  congrega- 
tion, everybody  was  grinning  and  winking  at  one  another, 
and  the  exercises  come  to  an  end  'bout  an  hour  before 
they'd  ought  to.  The  people  went  away  chucklin',  the 
Bishop  didn't  speak  to  Father  Foley,  and  then  almost  be- 
fore he  knew  what  had  happened,  Father  Foley  was  all 
alone  in  the  new  Mission.  Seems  two  or  three  men  had 
taken  a  look  around,  but  they  hadn't  even  seen  Mickey's 
string,  let  alone  locate  Ernie.  But  Father  Foley  made 
up  his  mind  he  was  goin'  to  find  that  chicken  if  it  lost 
him  the  parish.  Mickey  heard  him  in  the  little  entry 
where  the  cellar  door  was,  and  sneaked  up  to  the  window. 
Layin'  flat  on  his  stomach  and  peekin',  Mickey  saw  him 
come  down  the  cellar  stairs,  stoopin'  so's  not  to  hit  the 
ceiling.  Everything  was  as  still  as  a  cemetery  and  pretty 
dark.  Mickey  waited  till  his  Reverence  was  right  under 
a  low  beam,  then  pulled  the  string  for  the  last  time.  I 
guess  Ernie  thought  he'd  let  out  one  that  would  be  remem- 
bered, for  Mickey  said  it  come  so  quick  and  loud  it  scared 
him  even.  Father  Foley  jumped  straight  up  and  his  bald 
head  banged  the  beam  that  hard  Mickey  said  it  sounded 
like  hittin'  an  ash  barrel  with  a  ball  bat.  Mickey  had 
jerked  so  sudden  he'd  broke  the  string,  and  before  Father 
Foley  come  to  he'd  drawn  it  out  through  the  window. 
But  it  located  Ernie.  With  blood  in  his  eye,  and  his  lips 
stretched  back  over  his  teeth  like  he  was  tryin'  to  lift 
a  barrel  of  salt  on  a  bet,  he  sneaked  across  the  cellar  and 
threw  open  the  furnace  door.  Ernie  did  the  rest.  That 
was  just  what  he  wanted,  only  Father  Foley  didn't  know 
it.  With  a  rattle  like  you've  heard  'em  give  in  the  pits 

175 


Sadie 

down't  San  Luis,  Ernie  flew  out  in  his  Reverence's  face, 
and  let  him  have  both  spurs  before  he  could  dodge. 
Whether  it  was  a  chicken  or  a  banshee  he  didn't  wait  to 
find  out,  and  he  only  belted  his  head  twice  gettin'  up 
those  stairs.  As  for  Ernie,  when  his  little  bloody  eyes 
saw  the  light  of  the  open  cellar  window  he  flew  for  it, 
and  Mickey  grabbed  him  and  choked  him  before  he 
could  relieve  himself  of  another  crow.  He  was  over  the 
Mission  fence  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  and 
that  night  for  supper  Ernie  had  crackers  and  milk,  and 
all  the  wheat  he  could  eat,  and  a  big  plate  of  chopped 
meat.  Mickey  went  to  church  the  next  Sunday,  Father 
Foley  had  a  long  strip  of  court-plaster  on  each  cheek,  and 
a  couple  of  domes  on  his  bald  head  as  big  and  shiny  as 
snow  apples." 

Skinny  flipped  the  end  of  his  cigarette  out  upon  the 
sand. 

"  I  was  just  thinkin',"  he  added,  "  if  you  could  pull 
off  a  dedication  like  that  it  might  make  a  hit." 

Billy  was  laughing  too  hard  to  reply  at  once,  but 
when  finally  he  got  his  breath,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Skinny,  you  ought  to  be  shot  for  keeping  that  story 
till  now,  without  telling  it." 

McGregor  grinned.  "  Ernie  had  a  bum  finish, 
though,"  he  concluded.  "  He  seemed  to  realize  what 
he'd  done  and  got  so  chesty  he  thought  he  could  stop  a 
street  car  just  by  swellin'  up  in  the  middle  of  the  track 
and  crowing  at  it.  But  the  motorman  gave  her  six  points 
and  Ernie's  crow  wasn't  more'n  half  let  when  his  light 
went  out.  Mickey  never  found  any  of  him  but  a  tail 

176 


Skinny  Tells  a  Story 


feather,  and  his  aunt  wore  that  in  her  hat  for  a  long 
time " 

Another  roar  of  laughter  burst  from  Thompson,  and 
when  he  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  make  speech  pos- 
sible he  exclaimed: 

"  Skinny,  you're  the  biggest  liar  in  the  Territory !  " 

McGregor's  little  pinched  face  assumed  a  hurt  look. 

"  Honest,  Billy,"  he  declared  solemnly,  "  if  you  don't 
believe  me  you  can  write  Mickey  yourself." 

Then  another  spasm  of  coughing  seized  him,  causing 
all  the  laughter  light  to  flee  from  Billy's  eyes  as  he  looked 
away,  with  a  little  shiver. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Skinny  gasped  with  what  appeared  to 
Billy  to  be  his  last  breath,  "  it  won't  be  long  now  'fore 
everybody  in  Bagdad'll  be  on  the  top  of  the  heap — most 
everybody,  I  mean,"  he  qualified  as  if  on  second  thought. 
"  First  thing  he  knows,  Jerry  Rowley'll  have  to  put  in  a 
new  line  of  pick-handles  and  overalls.  Say,"  he  ex- 
claimed, sitting  up,  "  ain't  it  kind  o'  funny  he  don't 
blow  in  ?  " 

And  a  week  later  Jerry  did. 


CHAPTER   XV 

JERRY   ROWLEY   PROPOSES 

ON  his  return  Rowley  had  a  great  deal  to  do,  much 
to  tell,  but  more  to  insinuate.  Where  Rowley 
was  there  was  romance,  for  if  externally  it  did  not  exist, 
he  produced  it  from  his  own  inner  consciousness.  Some- 
thing of  the  spirit  of  a  past-and-gone  Munchausen  had 
been  transferred  to  him  to  the  end  that,  if  not  to  those 
who  had  acquaintance  with  him,  he  was  unto  himself,  at 
least,  a  hero. 

For  several  nights  after  his  return  he  held  forth 
grandly  in  the  Bon  Marche,  and  the  Western  stories  of 
the  New  England  novelists  based  on  their  car-window 
experiences  of  the  wide  and  open  places  are  less  lurid 
than  the  tales  he  told,  in  every  one  of  which  Rowley  the 
Great  was  cast  to  play  the  hero's  part. 

And  yet,  familiar  as  his  listeners  were  with  all  his 
methods  of  romance,  his  safety  lay  in  their  equal  familiar- 
ity with  the  fiery  horrors  of  that  blighted  land  the  lure  of 
gold  had  led  him  through.  Indeed,  there  was  but  little 
fabrication  required  on  Rowley's  part  for  him  to  produce 
the  desired  effect  upon  his  hearers,  sun-tanned  men  in  cor- 
duroy and  jeans  who  had  fought  for  life  as  he  professed 
to  have  fought,  beneath  a  sun  that,  swinging  low  from 
a  blinding  sky,  like  an  incandescent  ball  of  brass,  seared 

178 


Jerry   Rowley  Proposes 


and  blighted,  as  a  furnace  fire,  all  living  things  that 
challenged  it. 

For  three  days  he  had  been  alone  in  the  Valley.  His 
one  pack  animal  had  fallen  in  its  tracks,  and  humanely 
he  had  sent  a  bullet  through  its  brain.  His  horse  had 
gone  lame,  later,  and  it,  too,  paid  the  forfeit  demanded 
by  the  sun.  The  water  hole,  upon  which  he  had  de- 
pended, was  dry,  and  he  stood  face  to  face  with  Death, 
the  destroyer  of  him  whose  mummified  body  lay  at 
his  feet  along  the  rim  of  stones  where  water  once  had 
been.  His  tongue  swollen,  black,  and  pressed  between 
his  teeth,  he  had  pushed  on,  on,  ever  on,  to  the  end  of 
the  rainbow  where  lay  the  pot  of  gold.  One  by  one  he 
had  flung  away  the  articles  of  his  pack  until  at  last,  half 
crazed  and  valiantly  fighting  the  weird  animals  and  un- 
holy figures  that  danced  before  him  on  the  sun-shot  air, 
he  had  been  succored  by  a  Panimint  Indian. 

Recovering,  he  and  the  Indian  had  fared  forth  to- 
gether. It  would  appear  that  Fate,  moved  by  the  valor 
he  had  shown,  held  out  to  him  a  token  of  reward.  Off 
the  beaten  trail  he  found  a  ledge  of  fabulous  richness. 

At  this  point  in  his  story  he  rose  from  the  case  of 
"air-tights  "  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  and  amid  a 
silence  that  carried  compliment,  he  passed  around  the 
counter  and  from  beneath  drew  forth  a  sack.  Billy 
Thompson  and  the  rest  crowded  up  to  the  counter. 
Rowley  fumbled  the  thong  that  puckered  the  wide  mouth 
of  the  specimen  bag.  Some  one  offered  to  help  him,  an- 
other thrust  forward  a  knife.  But  the  thick  fingers  at 
last  succeeded  in  untying  the  many  knots,  and  seizing  the 

179 


Sadie 

sack  by  its  ears,  Rowley  emptied  the  contents  out  upon 
the  counter. 

"  Madre  D'Or !  "  gasped  Jose  Fernandez,  his  little 
pig  eyes  fairly  bulging  from  his  head. 

Such  ore,  heavy  with  the  gold  it  carried,  had  never  be- 
fore been  seen  in  Bagdad.  Billy  Thompson's  fingers  trem- 
bled as  he  lifted  a  piece  for  closer  inspection.  At  his 
shoulder  he  heard  Sansome  breathing  hard.  In  the  eyes 
of  every  man  at  the  counter  burned  the  fires  of  gold  lust, 
fires  like  none  other  that  flares  in  human  eyes.  And  in 
front  of  them  stood  Rowley,  the  man  who  had  entered 
the  joust  with  Death,  and  winning  had  brought  away  the 
golden  cup.  One  hand  on  his  hip,  the  other  pulling  at 
his  drooping,  bleached  mustache,  he  smiled  beneath  his 
shaggy,  beetling  brows.  To  one  who  knew — who  real- 
ized what  of  deep  significance  these  ragged  chunks  of 
glittering  rock  possessed — there  was  something  of  the 
ancient  knight  about  the  uncouth,  proud  figure  of  the 
man  who  watched  the  others  from  behind  the  counter. 

"  How  much  is  there  of  it  ? "  Robinson  hoarsely 
asked  at  last. 

Rowley  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  spread  out  his 
brown  and  heat-cracked  hands. 

"A  whole  ledge  of  it,"  he  replied. 

"  Madre  D'Or ! "  reverently  muttered  Fernandez 
again,  while  a  low  whistle  dripped  from  the  lips  of  Billy 
Thompson. 

"  Going  to  pull  freight  out  o'  here,  now,  ain't  you, 
Jerry  ?  "  he  inquired. 

Rowley  expanded  his  chest  until  his  blue  shirt  gaped 
180 


Jerry   Rowley  Proposes 


between  the  buttons,  revealing  three  ellipses  of  his  hairy 
breast. 

"  I  ain't  quite  decided,"  he  replied.  "  With  a  strike 
like  this,  and  the  railroad  comin'  hell  bent,  Bagdad  looks 
pritty  good  t'  me." 

"  Does  the  new  line  go  anywhere  near  it  ?  "  Sansome 
asked,  pointing  to  the  ore,  glittering  under  the  huge  oil 
lamp  dependent  from  the  low-beamed  ceiling. 

"  Two  miles — easy  going,"  was  the  terse  reply. 

They  looked  at  one  another 

"Just  like  finding  it  under  the  lunch  counter  over't 
the  eating  house,"  Billy  declared. 

Rowley  grinned. 

One  by  one  he  gathered  up  the  pieces  and  'dropped 
them  into  the  sack. 

"  Filed  your  claim,  Jerry  ?  "  Robinson  inquired. 

"  Betcher  life ;  that's  why  I  didn't  get  here  sooner. 
She's  as  tight  and  as  safe  as  the  diamond  hitch.  And 
I  let  a  young  feller  on  one  of  the  newspapers  have  the 
whole  story,"  he  added.  "  If  that  don't  start  things 
going,  I  don't  know  Jerry  Rowley.  I'm  lookin'  for  re- 
turns and  the  assay  report  any  day.  They'll  be  a  rush  " — 
he  wagged  his  head — "  they'll  be  a  rush  for  shore." 

"  What  kind  o'  luck  did  Curly  Watrous  have  ?  "  asked 
Billy. 

Rowley  tied  five  knots  and  pulled  them  tight. 

"  Him  and  me  separated  at  Dry  Springs,"  he  re- 
plied. "  He  hooked  up  with  some  feller  from  back  East 
that  he  run  'cross.  He  was  for  cuttin'  through  to  the 
west  an'  I  said  east.  They  were  headin'  fer  Goldfield 

181 


Sadie 

when  I  left  'em.  He'll  git  somethin' — Curly — if  he  don't 
git  into  trouble.  Talk  about  a  cane-mule  doin'  what  he 
wants  t',  in  spite  o'  all  hell,  why,  Curly  Watrous  has  got 
every  mule  in  that  borax  outfit  over  there  skun  to  death !  " 

The  little  group  broke  up,  each  man  departing  in 
silence  wondering  futilely  why  some  of  this  great  luck 
had  not  fallen  to  his  share.  Billy  Thompson  was  the 
last  to  leave  the  store. 

Rowley  was  kneeling  in  front  of  the  little  cast-iron 
safe  at  the  end  of  the  counter,  fumbling  the  combination 
disk. 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Jerry,"  Billy  said,  "  only  I  wish 
I'd  had  the  luck  and  made  the  strike  myself.  What  you 
goin'  to  call  the  mine  ?  Got  a  good  name  for  it  ?  " 

"  Couldn't  have  a  better  one,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  is  it?" 

Stowing  away  the  sack  of  specimens  Rowley  shut  the 
safe  door  and  spun  the  disk.  Rising  and  leaning  back 
against  the  counter  so  that  he  faced  Billy  under  the  lamp : 

"I  call  it  'The  Sadie,'"  he  said,  "after  Mis' 
Mor'son." 

On  the  instant  Billy  Thompson  was  startled,  then  he 
was  almost  impelled  to  laugh,  but  the  laughter  died  at  its 
birth  in  his  eyes.  In  its  place  there  flickered  a  light  of 
infinite  tenderness.  He  looked  down  at  the  floor,  then 
up  again,  and  said: 

"  Well,  Jerry,  all  I  can  say  is,  if  it  pans  out  like  Sadie 
has,  you'll  be  the  richest  man  in  the  world." 

"  I  guess  that's  right,  Billy,"  was  the  softly  spoken 
reply. 

182 


Jerry  Rowley  Proposes 


"  Goo"d-night."  And  Billy  Thompson,  turning  on 
his  heel,  left  the  store. 

On  his  way  back  to  the  eating  house  he  thought  of 
but  two  things — Sadie  and  gold.  Possessing  either  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  other  might  be  easily  secured, 
but  neither  was  his,  nor,  he  told  himself,  ever  would  be, 
hope  though  he  might.  Until  late  into  the  night  he  sat 
under  the  stars  in  front  of  the  eating  house,  reviewing 
his  life,  going  over  again  all  the  ambitions  that  had  been 
his  when  first  the  desert  called  him.  How  far  they  were 
beyond  the  realization  of  the  years  that  followed  only  he 
could  know.  And  yet,  after  all,  he  tried  to  reassure 
himself,  something  might  come  to  him.  There  was  the 
Palace.  To  be  sure  it  would  not  prove  a  gold  mine,  yet, 
in  the  end,  are  there  not  things  even  more  to  be  desired 
then  a  gold  mine? 

Sadie. 

There  was  Sadie.  For  a  year — more — if  had  been 
Sadie.  Sadie.  Sadie — or  a  gold  mine?  Sadie,  vastly 
more,  he  told  himself — and  yet  as  far  away.  At  least  he 
would  not  tell  her  the  name  that  Jerry  had  given  his 
mine.  To  be  sure  he  had  not  been  pledged  to  silence, 
but  after  all  it  was  for  Jerry  himself  to  tell  her ;  it  was  his 
right.  Before  his  going  away,  Billy  had  seen  the  direc- 
tion of  Jerry's  hopes.  And  he  felt,  as  certain  as  if  he 
had  been  told,  that  the  reason  for  that  going  away  was 
to  find  gold  that  he  might  lay  at  Sadie's  feet.  Gold  and 
a  girl !  It  was  a  game  in  which  gold  always  seemed  to 
hold  the  better  cards.  Would  it  win  this  time,  too? 
Billy  Thompson  asked  the  stars,  or  would  its  long  run 
13  183 


Sadie 

of  luck  change  ?  He  shook  his  head  and  a  sad  little  smile 
trembled  about  his  lips. 

"  What's  the  use  ?  "  he  muttered,  rising. 

He  carried  in  the  chair,  and  locked  the  door.  Turn- 
ing out  the  light  over  the  lunch  counter,  he  took  off  his 
shoes  and  in  his  polka-dot  stocking  feet,  noiselessly 
mounted  the  narrow  stairs,  that  he  might  not  awaken 
Sadie. 

During  the  week  that  followed  Sadie  saw  Rowley 
several  times,  but  only  for  an  instant,  on  the  street  or  in 
the  store,  where  a  prolonged  conversation  was  impos- 
sible. On  none  of  these  occasions  did  he  mention  the 
pony,  and  Sadie  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  her  attitude 
properly  should  be  in  the  circumstances. 

On  Saturday  afternoon  she  set  out,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom, for  a  ride  to  the  northern  mesa,  and  never  once 
looking  back,  as  the  whitewash  of  Bagdad  grew  misty 
in  the  southern  dust,  she  was  quite  unconscious  that 
Rowley  was  racking  along,  a  mile  behind,  on  the 
little  pinto  that  had  shared  his  last  adventure  in  the 
Valley. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  put  his  fortune  to  the 
test  to-day.  His  decision  had  been  reached  only  after 
a  week  of  self-communion,  and  in  the  light  of  Sadie's 
obvious  independence  he  felt  at  least  morally  certain 
that  what  he  had  to  tell  her  would  be  listened  to  atten- 
tively, and  acted  upon  with  the  judgment  which  she  had 
shown  herself,  on  numerous  occasions,  to  possess  in  heap- 
ing measure. 

184 


Jerry   Rowley  Proposes 


He  came  upon  her  by  the  spring  at  the  eastern  end 
of  the  mesa.  There  was  a  growth  of  scant  herbage  here 
of  which  Pedro  took  immediate  advantage.  Sadie  sat 
at  ease  in  her  saddle,  sharing,  it  would  seem,  the  delight 
of  the  little  animal  beneath  her. 

Rowley  called  to  her  from  a  distance  and  she  looked 
up;  a  frown  momentarily  clouded  her  eyes  as  he  issued 
from  his  own  dust  cloud,  but  as  he  drew  nearer  she 
smiled  and  waved  her  hand. 

As  for  Pedro,  he  did  not  so  much  as  lift  his  head. 

"  Takin'  a  little  ride?"  inquired  Rowley,  sweeping 
off  his  sombrero,  and  wiping  his  forehead  with  the  cuff 
of  his  shirt  sleeve. 

"  I  wanted  to,  just  for  the  last  time,"  Sadie  replied. 

Rowley  stared  at  her  blankly. 

"  Y'  ain't  goin'  away  ?  "  he  gasped. 

Sadie  shook  her  head.  "  Pedro,  I  mean,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  Now  you're  back  you'll  want  him." 

Her  delicate  coquetry  was  quite  lost  upon  Jerry 
Rowley. 

"  Who  said  so  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

Sadie  smiled.  "  Nobody  needed  to,"  she  replied.  "  I 
was  going  to  return  him  this  evening,  but  if  you  want 
him  now  " — she  hesitated  and  let  fall  her  eyes. 

"  Say,"  Rowley  chuckled,  "  quit  yer  kiddin'.  What 
you  s'pose  I  rode  out  here  after  yeh  fer?  That  blamed 
cayuse?  Quit  yer  kiddin'." 

"And  I  never  thanked  you  for  the  saddle  either," 
Sadie  went  on,  a  little  flash  of  memory  recalling  to  her 
what  McGregor  had  said.  "  I  do  now,  though." 

185 


Sadie 

Rowley  moved  uneasily  and  his  leathers  creaked. 
Sadie  looked  away. 

"  Had  t'  have  one  anyway,"  he  declared.  "  Did  yeh 
ride  much  ?  " 

It  was  quite  apparent  that  he  was  prospecting  for  an 
opening.  He  knew  very  well  what  he  desired  to  say, 
but  how  best  to  say  it,  under  the  circumstances,  was  per- 
plexing. He  was  certain  it  would  be  easier  if,  instead  of 
here  on  horseback,  he  were  seated  beside  Sadie  on  the 
siding,  back  at  the  eating  house. 

"  Much !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  Mr.  Rowley,  I've 
got  those  Indian  boys  faded  off  the  desert.  I  guess  I've  hit 
it  up  harder  'round  here  than  anybody  ever  did  before. 
Don't  you  think  Pedro  shows  it  ?  "  And  leaning  forward 
she  stroked  the  pony's  neck. 

Rowley  chuckled  and  urged  his  own  horse  nearer. 

"  Looks  fat  'nough,"  he  declared,  eying  her  mount 
critically,  "  too  fat  if  anything." 

Thereupon  a  silence  fell  between  them. 

"  I  see,"  Rowley  observed  irrelevantly,  after  a  space, 
"that  little  polecat,  McGre " 

"  Stop !  "    The  command  sprang  from  the  girl's  lips. 

The  man  thrust  his  face  forward,  amazement  written 
in  his  wide  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  speak  so  sharp,"  Sadie  apologized, 
"but  that  poor  little  fellow's  going  to  die;  he's  dying 
now,  out  here,  all  alone.  Can  you  think  what  that  means  ? 
And  you  haven't  got  any  right  to  call  him  names." 

Her  anger  was  none  the  less  apparent  in  her  flaming 
cheeks  and  flashing  eyes. 

186 


Jerry  Rowley  Proposes 


Rowley  gulped  and  swallowed.  "  Miss  Mor'son,"  he 
began,  and  paused. 

"  I  don't  make  any  bones  of  saying  what  I  think,  you 
know,"  Sadie  continued.  "  I  know  all  about  that  row 
between  you  and  Skinny " 

Jerry  shifted  his  seat  uneasily. 

" for  he  told  me.    And  you  were  in  the  wrong 

of  it,  Mr.  Rowley;  dead  wrong.  Besides,  Allie's  going 
to  marry  Al  Tunnison,  over't  Cottonwood — but  you 
needn't  tell  anybody." 

Rowley's  fat  jaw  fell.  He  took  off  his  sombrero 
again  and  rubbed  his  head  where  the  sun-bleached  hair 
was  thinning. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  exploded. 

Sadie  bit  her  lip.  "  I  guess  you  will  be,"  was  her 
reply,  "  if  you  don't  treat  that  poor,  little,  sick  fellow 
better'n  you  have." 

"  Now  look  here,  Miss  Mor'son  " — he  urged  his  horse 
so  near  that  their  stirrups  touched — "  I  didn't  foller  you 

over't  the  mesa  jest  t'  have  a  argyment  with  yeh " 

Sadie's  eyes  danced.     He  made  a  wide  gesture. 

"  Fur  from  it,"  he  declared.  "  If  you  say  I  done 
wrong  tryin'  t'  lay  out  this  here  Skinny  party,  why  I 
stand  c'rected.  Leastways  I  won't  say  you're  mistaken." 
He  coughed.  Sadie  nodded. 

Rowley  realized  that  he  had  permitted  himself  to 
drift  far  from  the  real  purpose  of  his  pursuit,  and  that 
to  avoid  the  surrender  of  further  ground  he  must  plunge. 
So— 

"  Miss  Mor'son,  how  old  d'yeh  s'pose  I  am  ?  " 
187 


Sadie 

The  interrogation  was  fairly  fired  at  her.  For  an 
instant  she  was  dazed  by  its  impact  upon  her  intelli- 
gence. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Rowley " — she  stammered,  then  she 
caught  herself  and  said,  "  I  don't  know  as  I've  given  it 
any  thought." 

"  Well,  take  a  good  look,  and  say,"  he  urged. 

Tilting  her  head  to  one  side,  like  a  listening  bird,  she 
studied  his  beaming  countenance. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  of  hurting  m'  feelin's,"  he  enjoined. 

Nothing  could  have  been  further  from  Sadie's  inclina- 
tion. Besides,  she  had  never  before  been  permitted  to 
obtain  "  such  a  good  look  "  at  Jerry.  In  the  Valley  he 
had  lost  more  of  his  already  scant  hair.  His  face  was 
tanned  by  the  sun  and  ever-present  alkali  to  the  color  of 
the  shoes  she  stood  in,  but  his  nose — she  took  especial 
note  of  his  nose — had  suffered  a  partial  eclipse,  in  that 
nearly  all  its  former  rosy  tint  was  gone.  Over  a  mouth 
the  lines  of  which  were  not  apparent  his  melancholy  mus- 
tache drooped,  ragged  and  grizzled. 

"  I  know  I  ain't  no  ravin'  beauty,"  he  declared  help- 
fully. 

Sadie  drew  her  lower  lip  between  her  teeth. 

"  What  d'yeh  say  ?  "  he  urged. 

Never  before  had  feminine  eyes  dwelt  so  long  upon 
his  countenance.  Under  the  scrutiny  he  beamed  like 
a  sun. 

"Well  —  Mr.  —  Rowley,"  Sadie  began  hesitatingly 
Then,  with  a  long  breath  she  announced  her  verdict: 

"  You  may  be  forty-three,  but  you  don't  look  it !  " 
188 


Jerry  Rowley  Proposes 


"  By  golly!  "  was  the  explosive  rejoinder,  "  and  here 
I  was  fifty-four  last  April !  " 

"  No !  "  Sadie  gasped  and  clicked  her  tongue. 

"  Yes,  sir — I  mean  ma'am — I  was " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Rowley,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it  don't  seem 
possible." 

He  shot  her  a  quick  glance,  but  in  her  face  was 
expressed  only  the  wonder  of  her  words. 

"  Mebbe,"  he  chanced  slyly,  "  it's  because  I  ain't  ever 
been  married." 

The  connection  was  somewhat  foggy,  but  Sadie  agreed. 

"  I  wouldn't  be  a  bit  s'prised  if  that  was  it,"  she  said. 

"And  d'yeh  know,  Miss  Mor'son,"  he  went  on  soberly, 
"  I  b'en  a-thinkin'  it  over.  I  did  a  lot  of  thinkin'  up 
there  in  the  Valley,  'specially  nights,  under  the  stars. 
Lord,  what  a  lot  of  'em  there  is  up  there  and  how  clost 
they  are!  And  d'yeh  know  what  I  thought  about, 
mostly?" 

Sadie  shook  her  head.  "  No,  Mr.  Rowley,  what  ?  " 
Leaning  over  the  pommel  of  the  saddle  she  ran  her  fingers 
through  Pedro's  sparse  mane. 

"  How  they  wasn't  anybody  give  a— I  mean  how  they 
wasn't  anybody  cared  a — a'  tall  whether  I  came  back  or 
not." 

"  O  Mr.  Rowley !  " — and  there  was  a  note  of  caress- 
ing reproof  in  her  voice — "  don't  say  that.  Why,  every- 
body cared — Billy,  and  Mr.  Robinson,  and  Mr.  Sansome, 
and  Jose,  even  Skinny,  and — and — Mr.  Rowley,  / 
cared,  too." 

"  You  cared,"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 
180 


Sadie 

"  How  could  I  help  caring,"  she  went  on,  "  after 
you'd  been  so  good  to  me  ?  Didn't  you  leave  Pedro  for 
me?  Wouldn't  that  make  me  care?" 

Rowley's  cracked  lips  puckered  like  the  tightly  drawn 
mouth  of  a  purse. 

"  Curly  said  as  how  there  ought  to  be  somebody 
back — home — as  cared  even  more'n  that." 

Curly  Watrous !  At  mention  of  the  name  Sadie  ex- 
perienced a  tightening  about  her  heart.  Her  breath 
trembled.  Curly!  She  was  back  in  the  gallery  of  the 
dance  hall  at  San  Luis.  Across  the  floor  she  saw  him, 
one  leg  flung  over  the  corner  of  the  table.  Every  little 
detail  of  his  picturesque  range  costume  was  vivid — his 
great,  shaggy,  angora  chaps,  his  spurs  on  which  the 
lamplight  twinkled,  his  belt  sagging  at  the  hips,  his  blue- 
flannel  shirt,  the  red  'kerchief  loosely  knotted  at  the 
throat,  his  smiling  lips,  his  bold,  blue  eyes,  his  hair,  gold- 
en, wavy — hair  that  seemed  to  catch  the  yellow  light  and 
hold  it.  Then,  later,  under  the  torch  in  the  yard,  why 
had  her  heart  leaped  in  her  bosom,  beholding  him,  this 
stranger,  there?  Why  should  it  tighten  now  at  mention 
of  his  name  ?  A  little  shiver  passed  over  her. 

"  When's  Mr.  Watrous  coming  back  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Who?  Oh,  Curly;  I  dunno.  But  as  I  was  say- 
in' " 

"  Weren't  you  together  over  there  ?  " 

"  He  went  on  farther  North.  Y'know  when  he  said 
that  'bout  somebody  carin' " 

"  Where'd  he  go  ?  "  Sadie  persisted. 

"  Up  Furnace  Creek  sommers ;  I  dunno.  Him  an'  me 
190 


Jerry  Rowley  Proposes 


didn't  have  nothin'  in  common  after  we  got  there.  Miss 
Mor'son,  layin'  out  under  them  millions  an'  millions  o' 
stars,  nights " 

"  But  he's  coming  back  some  time,  isn't  he  ?  " 

Rowley  twisted  uneasily  and  ran  a  thick  forefinger 
around  the  inside  of  his  collar. 

"  I  guess  so.  As  I  was  sayin',"  he  began  again  and 
Sadie  offered  no  further  interruption,  "  I  thought  a  heap 
about  it."  Leaning  over  he  placed  one  hand  on  the 
cantle  of  her  saddle.  "  Now,  Miss  Mor'son,  listen :  I 
got  three  claims  over  there'n  the  Valley,  and  they're  rich. 
When  th'  railroad  comes  through  I'll  be  rich " 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad !  "  was  Sadie's  eager  cry. 

"  And  if  you'll  only  say  th'  word  " — he  drew  back — 
"  they're  your'n." 

"  Mine !  "  she  gasped. 

"  Yes,  sir — I  mean  ma'am — your'n." 

"  But,  Mr.  Rowley  " — she  protested. 

"  If,"  he  interrupted,  "  you'll— you'll— well,  if  you'll 
marry  me." 

He  had  delivered  the  shot,  and  now,  as  if  fearing  the 
return  fire,  he  shrank  back  in  the  saddle. 

Sadie  looked  away.  She  felt  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder,  as  he  pleaded :  "  Yeh  ain't  cryin',  are  yeh  ?  I 
didn't  mean  y'  should  cry." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly.  Breathlessly  he  waited. 
After  an  seon  she  turned  and  her  honest  eyes  met  his. 
The  hand  she  held  out  to  him  he  took  in  both  his 
own — letting  the  reins  slide  down  the  pinto's  neck — as 
if  it  were  an  egg  and  he  were  wearing  gauntlets  of  mail. 

191 


Sadie 

"  Mr.  Rowley,  listen,"  she  said,  nor  attempted  to  with- 
draw her  hand.  "  I'm  just  as  proud  as  I  can  be  to  think 
that  you  should  say  to  me  what  you've  said.  Any 
girl  would  have  reason  to  be  proud.  Did  you  ever  think, 
Mr.  Rowley,  what  a  hard  time  a  girl  has — some  girls,  I 
mean — a  girl  like  me?  Of  course  all  of  'em  don't.  I 
s'pose  there  are  girls — I  know  there  are,  for  I  used  to 
see  lots  of  'em  back  in  Kansas  City — that  don't  have  a 
thing  in  the  world  to  think  about  but  just  themselves. 
I  wonder  how't  would  feel  just  to  think  about  yourself 
all  the  time.  Lord !  I  guess,  I  ain't  like  most  girls." 

"  Y'  ain't,"  Rowley  declared. 

Sadie  smiled  into  his  brimming  eyes. 

"And  mostly,"  she  went  on,  "  what  that  kind  of  a 
girl  thinks  about  is  who  she's  going  to  marry,  and 
when.  Because  I  don't  think  things  like  that  's  another 
reason  makes  me  believe  I'm  different.  I  guess  I  like  to 
be  free  too  much " 

"  You'd  be  jest  as  free  as  y'  are  now,"  Rowley  prom- 
ised eagerly. 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  she  contradicted,  with  a  smile. 
"  Mr.  Rowley,  you've  been  awful  good  to  me  ever  since 
I  came  to  Bagdad,  and  I've  sort  o'  looked  on  you  as  a 
friend — a  dear,  kind  friend — and  you  can't  understand 
what  that  means  to  a  girl  like  me — I  mean  to  know  that 
there's  one  man — a  strong,  fine  man — that  is  her  friend." 

She  looked  down. 

"  I  could  marry  you,  Mr.  Rowley."     She  paused. 

"  Could  yeh ! "  he  cried  hoarsely,  pressing  her  hand 
until  she  winced. 

192 


Jerry   Rowley  Proposes 


"  Yes,  I  could,  and  maybe  I'd  be  a  good  wife,  too." 

She  saw  his  chin  tremble. 

"  But  all  the  time  there'd  be  the  chance  I  wouldn't 
be  a  good  wife,"  she  went  on,  avoiding  his  rapt  gaze. 
"  I'm  a  funny  girl,  Mr.  Rowley ;  and  sometimes  when  I 
think  how  funny  I  am  it  kind  o'  scares  me.  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  something  I  never  told  a  man — anybody — in 
my  life  before."  She  lifted  her  brave  eyes  to  his.  "  Some 
day  I'm  going  to  meet  the  man  that'll  be  all  the  world  to 
me.  When  he  comes  I'll  know  him;  oh,  I'll  know  him 
as  if  I'd  known  him  for  more'n  a  million  years!  I'll 
just  feel  it.  He  won't  have  to  tell  me.  There  won't 
anybody  have  to  tell  me.  I  won't  even  have  to  tell  m'self . 
I'll  just  know  it,  like  I  know  the  sun's  sinking  over  there 
in  the  West,  at  the  other  end  of  this  mesa.  S'pose  I 
married  you,  and  then,  afterwards,  he  came  ?  " 

Slowly  his  fingers  relaxed  and  she  withdrew  her  hand. 

"  'Course  you'd  kill  him,"  she  went  on  quietly,  "  but 
what  good  would  that  do?  It  wouldn't  give  you  my 
love  for  him " 

The  shadow  of  the  mesa  crept  out  upon  the  sand. 
The  cottonwoods  overhanging  the  spring  whispered  in 
the  rising  breeze. 

"And  it's  'cause  I  like  you  so  much,  so  very  much — 
Jerry  "  (he  looked  up,  smiling  as  she  spoke  the  name) 
"that  it  wouldn't  be  best  to  do  it.  I  don't  know  any 
other  man  I'd  tell  the  things  I've  told  you,  but  I  know 
you  understand,  for  you  do,  don't  you,  Jerry?" 

The  note  of  wistfulness  in  her  voice  aroused  within 
him  all  the  tenderness  he  was  capable  of  feeling. 

193 


Sadie 

He  leaned  over  the  horn  of  his  saddle  and  drew  up 
the  reins. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  answered  huskily,  "  it's  all  right. 
I'm  glad  yeh  tol'  me.  They  ain't  many  wimmin  that 
would,  I  guess."  The  mist  had  gone  out  of  his  eyes 
and  in  them  now  was  a  glow  of  fidelity.  "  It's  jest  that 
in  yeh,  Sadie,  that  makes  a  feller  love  yeh.  You're  on 
the  level.  That's  it ;  you're  on  th'  level."  His  great  paw 
shot  out.  "  Put  'er  there !  " 

And  across  the  little  chasm  between  their  horses 
their  hands  met,  as  the  hands  of  partners  might  meet, 
across  a  camp  fire  in  the  desert. 

"  If  they's  ever  anythin'  old  Jerry  Rowley  c'n  do  fer 
you,  you  jest  ask  him  an*  see  how  long  it  takes  him  t' 
doit!" 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  ? "  asked  Sadie  eagerly. 
"  For  if  you  do  there  is  something — now.  It's  little 
Skinny.  His  finish  is  going  to  come  before  long,  and — 
and — before  it  does,  can't  you — can't  you  forget  all  the 
old  trouble — for  me — Jerry  ?  " 

On  Rowley's  part  there  was  not  an  instant  of 
hesitation.  He  stretched  forth  his  hand  a  second  time: 

"  Put  'er  there  again !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  For  any- 
thing you  say  goes  with  me !  " 

And  releasing  her  hand,  squeezed  white,  he  swept  off 
his  sombrero  with  all  the  ancient  courtliness  of  one  of 
those  Dons  whom  he  hated  with  so  fine  a  hate. 

Side  by  side  they  rode  back  through  the  rosy  sunset 
light,  to  Bagdad. 

194 


Jerry  Rowley  Proposes 


"  'Bout  Pedro,"  he  suddenly  recalled  as  the  eating 
house  came  into  view,  "  I  want  yeh  t'  have  him  jest  fer 
a  present,  saddle,  too.  And  d'yeh  care  if  I  keep  on  callin' 
th'  richest  claim  of  th'  three,  '  The  Sadie '? " 

"After  me!"  she  cried  delightedly. 

"After  you,"  he  declared. 

She  told  him  how  proud  she  would  be  and  his  old 
face  beamed,  while  in  her  own  was  reflected  all  the  joy 
his  promises  aroused  in  her. 

And  thus  it  was  that  Billy  Thompson,  standing  in 
the  kitchen  doorway,  saw  them,  and  the  conclusion  that 
he  drew  from  their  faces  was  all  at  odds  with  the  facts, 
for  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  reentered  the  kitchen, 
muttering : 

"  The  coin  gets  the  girl  out  here,  just  like  it  does — 
back  home." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

SADIE   EXPLAINS 

DISILLUSIONMENT  came  to  Billy  Thompson  the 
next  afternoon.     With  that  candor  which  of  all 
her  characteristics  most  appealed  to  him,  Sadie  confessed 
that  Rowley  had  offered  her  his  hand  and  'dobe — not  to 
speak  of  his  claims. 

She  had  seen  him  from  the  window  of  her  room ;  he 
was  sitting  on  a  pile  of  lumber  where  the  Palace  was 
building,  and  she  joined  him  there.  When  she  had 
finished  speaking  he  replied  without  lifting  his  eyes  to 
her  smiling  face: 

"  I  thought  he  was  layin'  to  do  it  when  he  told  me 
about  the  mine,  and  what  he'd  named  it." 

"  I  hope  the  name  won't  be  a  Jonah,"  she  said. 

"  It's  worth  thinking  about,  seems  to  me — Rowley,  I 
mean,"  he  went  on. 

Sadie  shook  her  head. 

"  I  guess  it  ain't  for  mine,  Billy,"  she  declared. 

"  That  so  ?  "  He  slapped  his  leg  with  his  quirt  and 
gazed  off  across  the  sand.  From  the  end  of  her  eye  she 
studied  his  clear-cut  profile. 

"  I  doped  it  all  out  a  long  time  ago,"  she  went  on, 
smoothing  her  skirt  across  the  knees.  His  eyes  did  not 
shift  from  their  steady  contemplation  of  the  desert's  limit- 
less sweep. 

196 


Sadie  Explains 


"  I  had  a  couple  of  chances,  back  in  K.  C.  I'd  have 
taken  one  of  'em,  maybe  if — well,  I  didn't.  And  since 
I've  been  out  here  it's  all  as  clear  as  the  mesa  over 
there  in  the  sunshine.  Did  you  ever  think  what  it 
means  for  a  girl  like  me  to  get  married,  Billy?  Did 
you?  A  working  girl,  I  mean;  one  that's  been  up 
against  it  for  as  far  back  as  she  can  remember,  almost, 
and  has  had  to  look  out  for  number  one  every  minute  of 
the  day." 

"  I  can  see  how  it  might  mean  a  lot,"  replied  Billy 
lightly. 

His  eyes  shifted  to  her  face  and  a  little  smile  flickered 
in  them  to  meet  the  smile  in  her  own.  She  shook  her 
head,  almost  wearily  it  seemed  to  him. 

"A  girl  like — well,  say  a  girl  like  me — ain't  fitte'd  to 
every  man.  Maybe  she's  got  hopes,  Billy,  and  aspira- 
tions. She  knows  the  chances  are  ten  million  to  one 
they'll  never  be  realized,  but  she  nurses  'em  along  just 
the  same.  The  men  she  is  fitted  to  marry  don't  stack  up ; 
I  mean  the  men  in  her  class.  They're  just  two  spots, 
Billy,  and  that's  what  makes  it  hurt  so.  She's  hungry 
for  something  to  eat  that  she's  never  tasted  and  knows 
she  probably  never  will.  She  wants  to  be  champagne  and 
pop,  when  she's  only  beer  and  gurgles.  That's  the  dope, 
Billy." 

A  little  dry  laugh  crackled  in  his  throat. 

"  Beer  goes  better'n  champagne — out  here,"  he 
replied. 

"  Maybe,"  she  agreed  doubtfully,  "  but  out  here  and 
now  ain't  everywhere  and  always." 

197 


Sadie 

In  the  little  silence  that  followed,  Billy  studied  the 
toes  of  his  shoes.  His  fingers,  tightly  clasped  around 
one  knee,  were  long  and  slim,  singularly  feminine;  the 
nails  were  pink  and  almond  shaped  and  fastidiously  kept, 
but  remembering,  Sadie  realized  the  deception  of  those 
girlish  fingers.  In  the  tremble  of  the  heat  waves  above  the 
sand  she  saw  again  Lawton's  purple  face,  the  bulging, 
red-rimmed  eyes,  the  horror  stamped  upon  the  brutal 
countenance,  and  locked  in  front  around  the  thick  and 
pulpy  neck,  she  saw  those  same  fingers,  tight  as  steel 
bands,  and  bloodless  white.  A  little  shiver  passed  over 
her  at  the  memory  and  her  eyelids  drooped. 

Presently  she  reached  out  her  hand  and  let  it  lie  on 
Billy's  arm. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Nothing,"  he  lied. 

"  What  we've  been  talking  about  ?  "  she  persisted. 

He  nodded.  "  I  was  just  thinking,"  he  observed 
ruminatively,  "  how  that  fellow  happened  to  let  you  get 
away  from  him." 

"Who?    Lacy?" 

The  name  had  sprung  unbidden  to  her  tongue.  She 
bit  her  lip  and  looked  away. 

Billy  turned  to  her,  a  queer  little  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  didn't  mention  any  name  before,"  he  replied 
dryly. 

"  It  was  a  mistake.  I— I — "  she  hesitated,  "  I  didn't 
mean  to.  I  hadn't  thought  about  him  till  now." 

She  was  sharply  angry  with  herself. 

"  Forget  him,"  Billy  muttered,  "  forget  him." 
198 


Sadie  Explains 


His  impertinent  injunction  brought  the  smile  back 
to  her  eyes.  "There,  that's  better,"  he  told  her, 
"  but,"  he  added,  "  you  hadn't  ought  to  let  a  little  thing 
like  that  sour  you.  It  ain't  givin'  the  others  a  square 
deal." 

"  But  there  ain't  any  others,"  she  declared  with  em- 
phasis. "  That's  what  I  mean.  Look  here  " — she  turned 
and  faced  him — "  who's  the  fellow  that  a  girl  like  me 
could  marry — just  naturally,  you  know?  I'll  tell  you — 
a  shipping  clerk  down  in  some  railroad  office.  A  guy 
that  never  earned  over  eighteen  a  week  in  his  life.  And 
she's  working,  too,  you  know,  tucking  away  her  little 
old  ten,  or  maybe  twelve,  every  Saturday  night.  And 
she's  her  own  boss.  Don't  lose  sight  of  that,  for  that's 
the  most.  It's  worth  more'n  the  money,  even,  just 
bein'  her  own  boss.  Well,  she  marries  the  guy.  Of 
course  when  she  does  she  quits  her  job  and  passes  up  the 
ten  or  twelve  per.  And  they  go  to  housekeeping — she  and 
Charley-boy — in  a  flat  over  a  butcher  shop  that  costs 
fifteen  dollars  a  month.  The  place  is  full  of  old  gold, 
spindle-legged  furniture  bought  on  the  instalment  plan. 
You  know  the  advertisements  in  the  street  cars  back 
East :  '  Let  Foster  Feather  Your  Nest.  Four  Rooms 
Furnished  Complete  For  Seventy-Five  Dollars.  Your 
Credit  Is  Good ! '  Chairs  that  squeak  when  you  sit  on 
'em ;  a  sofa  with  roses  as  big  as  cabbages — green  roses — 
and  that's  always  coming  unglued;  an  easel  in  the  two- 
by-twice  parlor  with  the  picture  of  an  old  mill  in  a  snow- 
storm in  a  silver  frame ;  and  a  plush  album  on  the  almost- 
mahogany  table,  with  pictures  of  Charley-boy's  sisters 
14  199 


Sadie 

in  it  in  their  confirmation  dresses.  And  the  girl  does 
the  cooking-  on  an  eight-dollar — '  dollar  down  and  dollar 
a  week  ' — gas  stove  that  the  company  connected  for  noth- 
ing. Then  after  the  first  youngun'  comes  and  she's  wear- 
ing a  calico  wrapper  and  curl  papers  till  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  she  sits  down  some  morning  by  the  window 
looking  out  on  the  street-car  tracks,  while  little  Charley, 
that  looks  like  the  It  she  married's  asleep,  and  lines  it 
all  out.  She's  been  in  a  trance.  Before  she  passed 
away  it  was  her  for  the  Park  with  the  other  girls  on  her 
afternoon  off,  vaudeville  every  Saturday  all  winter,  and 
a  show  every  night  if  she  wanted  to  go.  Now  it's  a  case 
of  kid,  wash,  socks,  shirt  and  a  mop.  She  couldn't  go 
to  a  show  if  she  wanted  to  on  account  of  little  Charley, 
and  on  Sundays  big  Charley'd  rather  sit  in  the  parlor  in 
his  stocking  feet  or  out  on  the  back  porch  in  his  sus- 
penders than  do  anything.  What's  she  done?  She's 
quit  bein'  her  own  boss  at  ten  or  twelve  a  week  to  be 
Charley-boy's  hired  girl  at  nothing  a  year.  That's  the 
dope,  Billy.  Fine  business,  ain't  it?  " 

Billy's  smile  had  widened  and  now,  as  she  ceased 
speaking,  he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  But  you've  left  out  the  best  part  of  it,  Sadie,"  he 
declared,  when  he  had  caught  his  breath. 

"  What  ?  "  she  blankly  inquired. 

"  The  part  that  made  her  marry  him  in  the  first  place." 

A  look  of  puzzlement  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  The  love,  I  mean,"  he  explained. 

"  Love !  "    she   cried.     "  Love !     O    Billy,   quit  your 
kiddin'!" 

200 


Sadie  Explains 


"  Don't  girls  ever  love  the  fellows  they  marry  ?  "  he 
inquired  testily. 

"  Maybe."  There  was  no  laughter  in  her  own  eyes 
now.  "  Maybe — when  they  marry  'em.  Even  then  I 
guess  it's  mostly  a  case  of  hypnotism.  But  it  ain't  then 
I've  been  talking  about.  It's  afterwards.  Billy  " — he 
perceived  that  she  was  serious — "  when  a  girl  says  she 
loves  the  fellow  that's  handed  her  out  the  biggest  gold 
brick  on  earth,  she  lies.  That's  what  she  does.  She 
lies,  and  I'd  tell  her  so,  too,  if  she  ever  tried  to  four-flush 
in  front  of  me.  That's  why  I  say  it  ain't  for  mine.  No 
siree ! "  And  she  shook  her  head  so  vigorously  her 
pompadour  trembled. 

Billy  laughed  again,  then  inquired  blandly : 

"  Did  you  tell  Jerry  all  this  ?  " 

"  Not  so  plain  maybe.  I  was  afraid  he  wouldn't  un- 
derstand. But  I  guess  he  caught  what  I  meant,  all 
right,"  she  replied. 

Billy  rose,  declaring  vehemently: 

"  Sadie,  you're  a  peach !  " 

She  smiled  almost  wistfully  and  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  glinting  gold  of  her  teeth. 

"  It's  true,"  he  went  on,  "  I  know  it,  only  it  wouldn't 
be  if  you  were  the  girl." 

"I'd  like  to  know  why  not?"  she  inquired  blankly. 

"  Because  if  you  were,  that  eighteen-dollar  clerk  would 
be  the  general  freight  agent  of  the  whole  line  inside  of 
two  years.  That's  why  not." 

"  Is  that  a  compliment,  Billy  ?  "  she  asked,  rising  and 
shaking  out  her  skirt. 

20 1 


Sadie 

"  I  don't  know  about  it's  being  a  compliment,"  he 
replied,  "but  it's  the  truth."  From  the  distance  came 
the  shriek  of  a  locomotive's  whistle.  "  Here  comes 
Number  3,"  he  added ;  "  let's  mosey  over,  maybe  there'll 
be  some  mail." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE   CONFESSION    OF   SKINNY 

AS  Thompson's  step  sounded  on  the  stairs,  Sadie 
slipped  a  bill  into  the  envelope  and  sealed  it. 
She  tried  valiantly  to  smile  at  him  as  he  appeared  on 
the  threshold.  Since  last  night  he  had  known  that  some- 
thing was  wrong.  It  must  have  been  the  letter  Sansome 
gave  her  after  the  arrival  of  Number  3,  he  concluded, 
little  knowing  how  accurate  the  conclusion  was.  Per- 
haps she  would  tell  him.  At  any  rate  he  would  not  in- 
quire. 

"  Fernandez  was  just  in  downstairs,"  he  said. 
"  Skinny's  quit." 

"For  good?" 

Billy  nodded. 

"  The  poor  little  chap,"  she  murmured,  and  turning 
stared  blankly  out  the  window. 

"  Sansome  says  he  brought  back  a  bottle  of  iodine 
this  morning,  and  said  he  guessed  he  wouln't  need  it  any 
more." 

"  He  knows  it's  almost  over,"  Sadie  said. 

"  It's  the  way  usually,"  Billy  went  on,  studying  the 
pattern  of  his  plaid  cuff ;  "  it's  when  they  begin  to  feel 
better  that  they're  going.  I've  seen  a  lot  of  it  out  here." 

Sadie  made  no  reply  and  Billy  changed  the  subject. 
203 


Sadie 

"  Have  you  heard  from  the  girl  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  turned  from  the  window  then  and  there  was 
some  of  the  familiar  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  she'll  come  whenever  I  wire  her.  I — I've  just 
written.  I  was  going  to  take  it  down  when  you  came  up ; 
I  want  it  to  go  out  on  Number  6." 

"  We'll  open  on  the  first,  all  right,"  Billy  went  on. 
"  I  talked  to  Al  over  the  'phone  an  hour  ago.  Rowley's 
got  the  bill  of  the  carpets.  They're  going  to  send  a 
new  man  out  from  the  System.  Stevens  may  come  him- 
self at  first.  Thought  I'd  let  you  know.  I  guess  I'd 
engage  a  couple  of  Mexican  women  for  the  start-off 
if  I  were  you." 

Sadie  rose. 

"  I  will,"  she  said ;  then,  hesitatingly,  "  I  wonder  if 
I  hadn't  better  go  over  and  see  Skinny  ?  " 

"  Come  along ;  I'll  go  with  you,"  Billy  proposed. 

He  slipped  his  hand  under  her  arm  as  they  crossed 
Main  Street.  Passing  the  "  Monte "  Sadie  glanced 
within  and  saw  a  stranger  seated  behind  the  wheel. 

"  Look !  "  she  muttered. 

The  stranger  did  not  lift  his  eyes  from  the  pink  sheet 
he  was  perusing. 

"  Poor  little  chap,"  said  Billy.  "  The  new  man's  from 
San  Luis,"  he  told  her ;  "  I  remember  him  at  the  Palace 
down  there — and  there's  our  Palace." 

Skinny  was  lying  on  the  cot  when  Billy  appeared 
in  the  A  of  the  tent,  but  when,  behind,  he  perceived 
Sadie,  he  sat  up,  smiling. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  you  came  over,  it  was  getting 
204 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

kind  o'  lonesome,"  he  said ;  and  then,  "  Billy,  you  got 
the  'makin's'?  I'm  all  out." 

The  little  book  of  papers  and  cambric  bag  were  pro- 
duced forthwith. 

"  Do  you  s'pose  you  ought  to  smoke  as  much  as  you 
do,  Skinny  ?  "  Sadie  asked.  "  If  you  cut  it  out  wouldn't 
you  feel  better  ?  " 

The  little  fellow  chuckled  throatily. 

"  Who  put  that  in  your  head  ?  "  he  inquired  as  he 
moistened  the  paper  and  bent  the  end ;  "  Jerry  Rowley  ? 
That's  what  he  said." 

"  He  said !  "  Billy  exclaimed.  He  stared  wonderingly, 
first  at  McGregor,  then  at  Sadie.  There  was  a  twinkle 
in  the  former's  eyes,  but  Sadie's  were  lowered  and  a 
wave  of  color  crept  across  her  cheek. 

"What  d'yeh  mean?" 

Skinny's  cigarette  was  fairly  burning  now. 

"  I  guess  some  little  bird  must  have  got  him  off  in  a 
corner  and  told  him  he  was  crazy  from  the  heat  or 
something,"  he  explained. 

"You've  seen  him?"  Billy  Thompson's  amazement 
was  obvious. 

The  thin  little  figure  on  the  cot  inhaled  a  mouthful 
of  smoke  and  coughed  it  out  in  a  thin,  blue  cloud. 

"  Yep,"  he  declared. 

"  Wouldn't  that  jar  you ! "  Thompson  exclaimed. 
"How'd  it  happen?" 

Skinny  crossed  his  slim  legs. 

"  Well,",  he  began,  "  I  was  settin'  here  'long  'bout 
'leven  o'clock  this  mornin'  tryin'  to  beat  m'self  at  a  game 

205 


Sadie 

of  seven-card  solitaire,  when  in  walks  Jerry.  I  gave  a 
quick  look  'round.  No  use.  My  gun  was  layin'  way 
over  there  by  the  pail,  and  not  a  load  in  it  at  that.  He 
had  me  dead  to  rights,  and  one  hand  was  under  his  coat- 
tail—behind." 

Dramatically  he  paused  and  took  another  deep  pull 
at  the  cigarette.  Sadie  did  not  lift  her  eyes. 

"  And  then  what  happened?  "  Billy  urged. 

"  Well " — McGregor  hesitated,  and  glanced  first  at 
one,  then  the  other  of  his  hearers — "  I  said  t'  m'self, 
'  here's  where  you  have  a  quick  finish.'  But  I  didn't. 
Instead  of  drawin'  and  blazin'  away,  there  he  stood 
grinnin'  like  a  chessy  cat.  Then  all  of  a  sudden,  as  I 
dodged,  he  whips  out  the  hand  he'd  been  carryin'  under 
his  coat-tail,  and  what  d'yeh  suppose  was  in  it  ?  " 

Sadie's  eyes  lifted. 

"What?"  demanded  Billy. 

"  Can  o'  tomatoes !  " 

Billy  collapsed. 

"A  can  of  tomatoes ! "  Sadie  gasped. 

McGregor  nodded  soberly. 

"A  quart  can,  too.  And  he  set  'em  right  down  on 
the  solitaire  game  and  proceeded  to  open  'em  with  that 
sword  of  his  he  calls  a  pocket  knife.  When  he  gets  the 
top  off  he  reaches  down  in  an  inside  pocket  and  digs  up 
a  couple  of  shiny,  new  spoons.  Then  somewhere  else 
around  his  person  he  uncovers  a  pay  streak  of  cheese 
and  opens  up  a  pocket  of  crackers,  and  sets  'em  both 
down  'longside  the  can.  I  kep'  starin'  at  him  with  my 
eyes  stickin'  out  like  the  bronze  door  knobs  on  a  Pullman 

206 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

car  for  the  blamed  old  shine  hadn't  said  a  word.  When 
dinner's  all  ready  he  pulls  out  that  soap  box  over  there 
and  straddles  it.  Then  lookin'  me  square  in  the  eye 
he  clears  his  throat  and  says :  '  I'm  pretty  damn  hungry ; 
ain't  you  ?  Dip  in.'  And  I  dipped.  That  broke  the  ice 
and  there  we  set,  lickin'  up  cold  canned  tomatoes  and 
plantin'  crackers  and  cheese,  like  we  was  shipwrecked 
sailors  on  a  desert  isle.  Talk  ?  He  talked  like  he  meant 
to  make  up  for  all  the  time  he'd  lost  the  past  year  and  a 
half.  It  was  a  regular  sewin'  circle,  and  when  we  were 
so  full  of  tomatoes  they  were  oozin'  out  of  our  eyes,  he 
springs  a  couple  of  maduro  Lola  Montez  perfectos,  and 
we  lit  up  and  talked  some  more.  He  told  me  all  the 
news  about  himself,  the  claim " 

The  whistle  of  Number  6  sounded  from  the  distance. 

"  My  letter !  "  Sadie  recalled. 

"  Here,  give  it  to  me,"  Thompson  exclaimed,  and 
snatching  it  from  her  hand  sprang  through  the  tent 
entrance. 

" — I  don't  know  what  made  him  do  it,"  McGregor 
added. 

It  may  have  been  that  in  Sadie's  eyes,  as  they  met  his, 
he  read  the  truth,  for  a  flush  came  into  his  cheek,  and 
he  appeared  about  to  speak,  but,  instead,  looked  down, 
and  missed  the  smile  that  bent  Sadie's  lips,  and  that  per- 
haps would  have  told  him  more  even  than  her  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  hear  from  back  East  ? "  he  asked, 
as  if  to  change  the  subject.  "  Everything  all  right?" 

Sadie  glanced  at  him,  shook  her  head,  hesitated,  then 
replied : 

207 


Sadie 

"  My  mother's  dead,  Skinny." 

"  Sadie !  "  McGregor  leaned  forward  and  held  out 
his  hand.  She  was  very  near  to  crying,  but  still  she 
smiled. 

"  Maybe  I  don't  know  what  that  sort  of  thing  means," 
he  said.  "  Have  you  told  Billy  ?" 

"  Not  yet.  I  don't  know  whether  to  tell  him  or  not ; 
would  you  ?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  do  any  good,  would  it  ? "  he  replied, 
and  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  telegraphed  the  Sisters,"  she  explained ;  "  maybe 
Robinson  will  tell  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  he  won't !  "  Skinny  assured  her ;  "  he  ain't 
that  kind." 

"  It  came  so  sudden  I  ain't  quite  over  it  yet,"  she 
said.  "And  yet  I  shouldn't  have  been  surprised  at  all. 
You  know  how  it  is  to  be  conscious  a  thing's  going  to 
happen — oh,  for  ever  so  long! — and  when  it  does  it 
knocks  the  breath  out  of  you  just  the  same." 

"  I  know,"  he  agreed.  "  It's  the  same  when  you've 
got  what  I  have.  Nobody  knows  better'n  I  do  it's  going 
to  git  me  sooner  'r  later — sooner,  I  guess — but  when  it 
does  I'll  be  just  as  much  surprised  as  if  I  hadn't  known  it 
all  the  time." 

He  read  the  question  in  her  eyes. 

"  'Bout  cashin'  in,  I  mean,"  he  explained. 

She  had  not  meant  to  bring  him  thus  to  himself,  or 
even  to  refer  to  his  having  left  the  "  Monte."  She  leaned 
toward  him  and  stroked  his  hand. 

"  What's  the  use  talking  that  way  ?  "  she  reproved. 
208 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

His  eyes  fell  to  her  hand  where  it  lay  upon  his  thin 
wrist,  and  when  he  lifted  them  it  was  to  smile. 

"  Maybe  I  don't  know,"  he  declared.  "  Nobody 
better." 

The  evening  breeze  was  rising,  stirring  the  flaps  of 
the  tent. 

"  Good  Lord !  I've  known  it — known  it  and  been  wait- 
ing— for  four  years." 

"  Was  that  why  you  came  out  here  in  the  first  place, 
Skinny  ?  "  she  asked.  The  tent  was  filled  with  golden 
light.  A  little  gust  loosened  a  lock  of  her  hair  and 
brushed  it  across  her  cheek. 

"  It  was  the  bugs,"  he  replied ;  "  but  I  didn't  have 
'em— then." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  curiously. 

"  It  was  m'  step-brother ;  the  old  man's  son — Jim." 
He  coughed.  "  He  was  thirteen  years  old  when  m' 
mother  married  the  old  man.  I  wasn't  any  more'n  nine 
or  so." 

He  had  never  mentioned  his  people  to  her  before  and 
she  doubted  if  even  Billy  knew.  He  coughed  again,  a 
rattling,  deathy  cough  that  sent  a  shiver  over  her. 

"  What  did  she  do  it  for  ?  "  she  asked  blankly. 

"  Who  ?  M'  mother  ?  I  dunno.  It  was  the  old  man 
more'n  't  was  her.  She  knew  him  before  she  married 
m'  father.  I  guess  they  both  wanted  her  and  m'  father 
won  out.  Then  the  old  man  up  and  married  somebody 
else,  out  o'  spite,  looked  like.  The  whole  bunch  of  'em 
lived  right  there  in  Cleveland,  you  know.  The  old  man 
had  a  place  on  Superior  Street  and  was  makin'  a  bundle. 

209 


Sadie 

Something  was  the  matter  with  m  '  father,  I  guess. 
Maybe  he  was  sick;  I  dunno.  He  was  a  stonecutter, 
good  for  five  a  day  when  he  worked,  but  when  m'  little 
sister  died — she  was  only  a  baby — it  seemed  to  kind  o' 
knock  him  out.  M'  mother  used  to  tell  me  how  much  m' 
father  thought  of  the  little  thing.  I  don't  remember  her 
at  all.  Her  name  was  '  Margy.'  I  was  only  three  when 
she  was  born.  M'  mother  used  to  tell  me  afterwards  how 
m'  father'd  go  out  to  Elmwood  Sundays  with  flowers  for 
her.  I  used  to  go  with  him  sometimes,  too — m'  father, 
'n'  m'  mother,  V  I.  I  don't  remember  much  about  it, 
though.  I  suppose  the  little  grave's  there  yet,  but  I  guess 
there  don't  anybody " — his  voice  became  a  whisper — 
"  take — flowers — out — there — any — more." 

"  Poor  little  thing,"  murmured  Sadie. 

"  Lucky — just  lucky,"  was  the  quiet  response. 

The  golden  light  was  slowly  vanishing  as  the  desert 
evening  closed  in  around  them. 

"  M'  father  died  when  I  was  six,"  the  loose,  hollow 
voice  went  on  in  the  shadow,  "  so  I  don't  remember  him 
so  very  much  either,  He  used  to  be  good  to  m'  mother, 
though.  She'd  tell  me  a  long  time  afterwards  'bout  the 
things  he'd  do — like  taking  us  all  on  Sunday  excursions 
over  to  Put-in  Bay,  and  the  picnics  of  the  Union,  and 
theaters.  Afterwards  all  the  real  happiness  she  ever 
seemed  to  get  was  thinking  about  those  times.  I  remem- 
ber one  day  I  came  on  her  in  our  kitchen,  over  the  old 
man's  place,  where  we  lived — afterwards — came  on  her 
kind  o'  sudden.  She  was  standing  by  the  back  window 
looking  down  on  the  alley — standing  there  crying  softly, 

210 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

all  to  herself.  I  didn't  make  a  bit  of  noise,  but  some- 
thing must  of  told  her  I'd  come  in,  for  she  just  turned, 
calm,  and  came  to  me  and  knelt  down  and  put  her  arms 
around  me  and  kissed  me.  I  asked  her  what  she  was 
thinkin'  about  that  made  her  cry  so — I  was  only  a  kid, 
you  know,  and  couldn't  understand — but  she  didn't  say 
anything,  just  wiped  her  eyes,  and  smiled,  and  shook  her 
head.  That's  all.  But  I  know  now  what  she  was  think- 
ing about." 

The  shadow  voice  fell  silent. 

Without  speaking  Sadie  rose  and  seating  herself  be- 
side him  took  one  of  his  hot,  thin  hands  in  both  her  own. 

"  Don't  tell  me  any  more,  Skinny,  if  it  makes  you  feel 
so,"  she  said. 

A  smile  flickered  an  instant  in  his  sunken  eyes  and 
reaching  up  he  caught  between  his  fingers  the  lock  of  her 
hair  that  the  wind  had  loosened,  caressing  it. 

"  It  don't  hurt  me  any,"  he  said,  "  it's  all  so  long  ago. 
Why,  it's  so  long  ago  that  sometimes  when  I'm  sittin' 
here  alone,  and  get  to  thinkin'  of  it,  it  don't  seem  like 
it  ever  happened,  really — more  like  I'd  dreamed  it.  And 
I  never  told  a  livin'  soul  about  it  before  and  don't  know 
why  I  tell  you,  only  somehow  I  sorter  like  to  tell  it — 
to  you." 

"  Skinny."  Under  the  caress  of  her  voice  he  closed 
his  eyes.  And  she  felt  now  as  many  times  she  had  before ; 
if  only  she  might  take  this  child — this  little  lost  child — 
in  her  arms  and  comfort  him. 

"And  then  m'  father  died,"  he  went  on.  "He'd 
always  taken  good  care  of  us,  m'  mother'n  me,  but  he 

211 


Sadie 

o 

had  to  scrape  hard  to  do  it,  with  his  sickness  and  the 
strikes,  and  all.  There  wasn't  any  money  left,  just  a  lit- 
tle insurance,  and  mother  sold  all  the  things  we  could  get 
along  without,  and  we  moved  out  to  Brooklyn.  It  wasn't 
much  of  a  suburb  then,  like  it  is  now.  M'  mother  did 
washin'  and  anything  else  she  could  find,  and  I  went  to 
school.  It  was  five  years  'fore  the  old  man  discovered 
her.  She'd  had  to  work  hard  and  I  guess  she  wasn't  as 
pretty  as  she'd  been — once.  The  old  man's  wife  had 
died  the  year  before  and  had  left  him  Jim.  I've  always 
thought  it  was  more  because  he  wanted  somebody  to 
look  after  Jim  that  the  old  man  asked  m'  mother  to 
marry  him  than  because  he  really  wanted  her.  I  never 
heard  him  talk  to  her  but  once.  It  was  one  Sunday  after- 
noon. I'd  been  out  on  the  Commons  behind  our  house, 
and  when  I  came  in  through  the  woodshed  I  heard  him 
in  the  kitchen.  Lord,  he  was  layin'  it  on  thick!  M' 
mother  didn't  have  much  to  say.  He  was  doin'  it  all. 
That  was  his  way.  Told  her  she'd  no  business  to  work 
the  way  she  did.  I  just  stood  there  in  the  woodshed 
with  m'  arms  full  of  kindlin's  and  listened.  He  told  her 
how  well  he  was  doin',  had  four  or  five  thousand  in  the 
Society  for  Savings,  a  lot  or  two  over  west  o'  town,  and 
a  little  street-car  stock.  The  brewery  had  backed  his 
place  and  it  was  doin'  fine,  he  even  thought  of  openin' 
another,  and  all  like  that,  you  know.  It  was  clear  what 
he  was  up  to  and  I  wondered  what  m'  mother'd  say. 
Then  finally  she  began  to  talk.  I  couldn't  stand  it  any 
longer  and  made  a  sneak,  carryin'  the  kindlin's  out  in  the 
backyard  so's  not  to  make  a  noise.  I  didn't  come  in  till 

212 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

supper  time  and  he'd  gone.  M'  mother  acted  kind  o' 
different,  and  after  supper,  when  she'd  washed  the  dishes 
and  I'd  wiped  'em  and  put  'em  away  in  the  cupboard, 
we  set  down  in  the  sittin'  room  and  she  told  me ;  told  me 
just  what  it  would  mean,  and  all.  She  wouldn't  have 
to  work  so  hard  and  we'd  have  a  good  home,  and  plenty 
to  eat,  and  plenty  to  wear.  There  was  a  picture  of  m' 
father  in  the  sittin'  room,  a  picture  m'  mother  had  a  man 
enlarge  from  a  photograph.  It  had  a  swell  silver  frame 
on  it  and  stood  on  an  easel  in  the  corner.  When  she'd 
told  me  all  it'd  mean,  she  turned  and  pointed  to  the  pic- 
ture and  said :  '  Do  you  think  he'd  care,  Sammy  ?  '  She 
always  called  me  '  Sammy.'  What  could  I  say  after  what 
she'd  told  me?  I  could  see,  though,  she  didn't  want  to, 
really.  It  was  the  work,  and  she  was  tired,  and  sometimes 
when  I  think  of  it,  seems  's  if  maybe  it  was  on  account  of 
me.  Anyway  when  she  pointed  to  the  picture  and  asked 
me,  I  told  her  I  thought  if  m'  father  knew  he'd  be  glad. 
That  seemed  to  settle  it,  and  the  next  spring  they  were 
married  and  we  moved  downtown  over  the  old  man's 
place.  He'd  fixed  the  flat  all  over  so's  it  wouldn't  look 
like  it  did  when  his  first  wife  was  livin',  and  it  was  a  lot 
different  from  the  little  house  we'd  had  out'n  Brooklyn. 
I've  always  thought  that  was  pretty  decent  of  the  old 
man  to  fix  it  over  like  he  did,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  There  ain't  many  men  would  have  done  it,"  Sadie 
replied. 

"  I  saw  right  off  that  Jim  thought  the  same  as  I  did 
about  it.  He'd  been  one  of  those  picture  kids,  you  know. 
His  mother'd  made  him  wear  velvet  pants  and  little  dinky 

213 


Sadie 

socks,  the  kind  that  fix  it  easy  for  the  mosquitoes  in  a 
town  like  Cleveland.  He  wasn't  so  bad,  though;  not 
very  strong,  kind  o'  frail.  Standin'  behind  him  you 
could  look  right  through  his  ears ;  that  ain't  ever  a  good 
sign.  But  things  went  on  all  right  for  several  years. 
The  old  man's  place  kept  making  more  and  more  money 
and  m'  mother  did  have  a  lot  of  things  she'd  never  had 
before.  I  s'pose  most  women  would  h've  shook  hands 
with  themselves,  but  somehow  m'  mother  never  did. 
There  weren't  any  more  picnics  or  excursions  over  to 
Put-in  Bay,  and  the  old  man  used  to  lap  up  more  o'  the 
booze  than  was  good  for  him.  He  didn't  get  drunk; 
that  is,  really  drunk,  just  about  half -pickled  all  the  time. 
He  wasn't  ugly  or  anything  like  that,  only,  you  see  m' 
father'd  never  touched  it,  and  m'  mother  couldn't  seem 
to  get  used  to  it  in  the  old  man." 

"  I  know,"  Sadie  said  softly,  "  I  know  what  that  sort 
of  thing  means." 

"  Far  as  I  was  concerned,"  McGregor  went  on,  "  I 
didn't  have  no  kick  coming.  I  just  didn't  count — with 
the  old  man — that's  all.  He  never  landed  on  me  very 
hard,  and  whenever  he  did,  I  guess,  likely,  he  had  reason 
enough.  I  wasn't  any  angel  then  more'n  I  am  now." 

He  smiled  and  coughed. 

"  Fact  is,  he  was  worried  'bout  Jim,  even  then.  He 
couldn't  go  to  school  regular,  Jim  couldn't,  and  after- 
wards, when  I  got  a  job  down  at  the  big  gum  factory — 
in  the  shipping  room — Jim  wanted  one,  too.  But  he  only 
lasted  three  months;  the  work  was  too  hard.  Jim  was 
all  right  only  he  wasn't  there — you  know — sick  and 

214 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

weak.  Then  came  that  hard  winter  five  years  ago.  May- 
be you  remember  it — worst  in  years.  It  put  Jim  clean 
to  the  bad.  He  got  pneumonia  and  only  pulled  through 
by  a  nose.  Then  in  the  spring  the  Doc  said  he'd  have 
to  go  West  or  croak — whichever  he  wanted.  There  was 
sure  hell  to  pay  then.  I  thought  the  old  man'd  go  plumb 
nutty.  You  see  he  couldn't  come  out  here  with  Jim — 
or  thought  he  couldn't — on  account  of  the  business,  and 
m'  mother  she  couldn't  either.  They  didn't  know  what  to 
do.  Then  I  told  'em  I'd  go  with  Jim  if  they  wanted  I 
should.  At  first  the  old  man  didn't  think  it  would  do 
any  good,  and  poohed  the  idea.  I'd  wanted  to  get  away 
though,  and  this  looked  like  a  chance,  so  one  Sunday 
m'  mother  and  I  talked  it  all  over,  and  finally  she  made 
the  old  man  see  it  was  the  best  way,  too. 

"  Jim  didn't  seem  to  realize  just  how  sick  he  was, 
looked  at  it  like  he  was  goin'  on  a  trip.  When  we  left 
Cleveland  mother  give  me  twenty-five  dollars,  and  her 
Bible,  and  a  little  crucifix  father'd  got  for  her  from  a 
missionary  up  around  St.  Anne's.  The  old  man  came 
with  us  as  far  as  Chicago ;  we  had  almost  the  whole  day 
to  wait  there.  Him  and  Jim  loafed  around  the  depot, 
but  I  hit  the  sidewalk.  God,  how  I  walked!  I  guess  I 
hiked  over  that  town  from  Lincoln  Park  to  the  stock- 
yards, 'n'  from  the  lake  front  'way  over  West  where  the 
houses  were  kind  o'  scattered;  all  in  that  one  day." 

Sadie  laughed. 

"  On  the  square  I  did." 

A  cough  shook  his  slight  frame  and  he  beat  his  flat 
breast  with  his  clenched  fists. 
15  215 


Sadie 

Sadie  looked  away. 

"  Damn  'em !  "  he  muttered. 

The  spasm  passed  and  he  continued.  "  The  Doc  in 
Cleveland  give  us  a  letter  to  a  Doc  he  knew  in  Denver, 
and  when  we  saw  him  and  he'd  looked  Jim  over  he  told 
us  to  pull  freight  for  the  open.  So  we  went  down  to 
Colorado  Springs.  Ever  been  there  ?  Fine  place ;  pretty 
as  a  picture,  with  old  Pike's  Peak  sticking  up  in  the  air 
right  at  the  end  of  the  avenue,  behind  The  Antlers. 
One  of  the  prettiest  places  you  ever  saw,  only  all  the  folks 
that  can't  breathe  back  East  go  out  there  and — you  know. 
The  old  man  sent  us  money  regular — seventy-five,  or  a 
hunderd  on  the  first  of  every  month.  That  was  enough, 
the  way  we  lived.  But  Jim  he  didn't  seem  to  get  any 
better.  He  didn't  get  any  worse  neither — that  is,  not 
fast.  But  when  the  bugs  are  in  you  here  " — he  tapped 
his  breast — "they  ain't  asleep.  'Course  he  was  getting 
worse  all  the  time,  only  you  couldn't  seem  to  notice  it." 

Sadie  shivered  and  looked  away. 

"  It  was  'bout  a  year  and  a  half  after  we  came  out 
that  Jim  hit  the  toboggan — fast.  I  telegraphed  the  old 
man  and  he  wired  back  that  m'  mother  was  sick  and 
he  couldn't  come.  I  hadn't  had  a  letter  from  her  for 
nearly  a  month.  Then  one  day  when  the  Doc  came  to 
see  Jim  I  followed  him  out'n  the  hall  and  asked  him 
'bout  how  long  he  thought  it  would  be.  He  said  it  might 
be  'most  any  time,  then  he  gave  me  a  sorter  funny  look, 
and  felt  my  pulse,  and  told  me  to  come  over  'n'  see  him 
the  next  morning.  I  didn't  think  anything  about  it  then, 
but  the  next  morning  I  dropped  in  't  his  office.  It  was 

216 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

over  a  dry-goods  store  in  a  big  brick  building  on  Tejon 
Street,  I  remember.  He  felt  o'  me,  and  thumped  me, 
and  put  a  machine  on  my  gizzard,  and  listened,  then 
he  asked  me  if  I  eat  much.  I  told  him  I  didn't — very 
much.  Then  he  asked  me  if  I  coughed  and  I  told  him 
I  did  sometimes,  in  the  mornin'.  '  I  thought  so/  he  said. 
I  asked  him  what  it  was  all  about,  then,  and  he  told  me. 
You  could  have  knocked  me  over  with  a  feather.  You 
see  I'd  been  sorter  nursing  Jim  and — well — I'd  got  it — 
got  it  from  him,  that's  all." 

The  long  shadows  were  creeping  across  the  desert; 
twilight  was  deepening.  The  evening  breeze  stirred  the 
flaps  of  canvas  at  the  tent  entrance.  The  strains  of  a  con- 
certina, singularly  sweet  in  the  stillness,  were  borne  them 
from  the  distance. 

"As  long  as  I  live,"  the  thin  voice  droned  on,  "  I'll 
never  forget  the  night  Jim  died.  It  was  in  a  little  back 
room  of  the  Bijou  House  in  Manitou,  right  up  against 
a  mountain.  There  wasn't  anybody  there  but  me.  For 
two  weeks  Jim  had  been  living  on  whisky  and  he  knew 
what  was  coming  as  well  as  I  did.  It  was  about  half  past 
ten.  He'd  slept  a  little,  earlier  in  the  evenin'.  There 
was  a  lamp  on  the  table,  turned  low,  and  I  set  by  it, 
watchin'.  I  hadn't  told  him,  or  written  the  folks  what 
the  Doc  had  told  me,  and  I  just  watched  Jim,  lay  in' 
there  asleep,  and  tried  to  dope  it  all  out  what  I'd  better 
do.  There  was  a  dance  going  on  in  a  hotel  down  the 
street,  and  I  could  hear  the  band.  All  of  a  sudden  Jim 
woke  up.  '  Sam,  are  you  there  ? '  he  said.  I  told  him 
I  was,  and  took  his  hand.  '  Listen/  he  said.  It  was 

217 


Sadie 

the  band  he  heard.  He  kind  o'  smiled  and  tried  to  nod 
his  head  in  time  to  the  music,  but  he  was  too  weak. 
'  Why  don't  you  light  the  lamp,  Sam  ?  '  he  asked  me,  low. 
Then  I  knew  he  was  going  fast.  There  wasn't  any  use 
callin'  anybody  or  raisin'  a  row,  so  I  just  set  there  holding 
his  hand.  By  and  by  his  eyes  opened  and  I  leaned  down. 
'  Sam,'  he  whispered,  '  Sam,  I'm  much  obliged.  Good- 
by.'  Then  with  all  the  strength  he  had  left  he  squeezed 
m'  hand,  but  it  was  such  a  little  squeeze  I  could  hardly 
feel  it.  That  was  all — just  that — '  much  obliged  ' — and 
he  was  dead." 

Quietly  Sadie  rose  and  went  to  the  door  of  the  tent 
and  stood  there  looking  out  into  the  gathering  night. 
Away  off  somewhere  in  the  East  was  Kansas  City.  In 
a  little  room  in  a  big  building  lay  her  mother,  while 
hooded,  silent  women  glided  noiselessly  about.  At  the 
head  of  the  bed  whereon  the  still  figure  lay,  outlined 
beneath  the  sheet,  candles  burned. 

"  Mother,  mother,"  the  girl  whispered  to  the  deepen- 
ing twilight. 

"  I  telegraphed  everything  t'  the  old  man,"  the  voice 
behind  went  on,  "  'bout  myself  and  all,  and  told  him  when 
Jim  would  get  to  Chicago.  The  Doc's  brother  was  goin* 
and  he  saw  to  it,  so  I  didn't  have  to  go.  It  was  just 
as  well,  for  the  next  day  the  old  man  wired  me  m'  mother 
had  died.  You  don't  know  how  funny  it  made  me  feel, 
Sadie.  It  didn't  surprise  me,  or  daze  me,  or  anything 
like  that,  at  all.  It  just  made  me  realize  that  I  was  out 
here — all  alone.  I  didn't  hang  around  Manitou  long. 
I  went  down  to  San  Luis.  There  wasn't  anything  I 

218 


The  Confession  of  Skinny 

could  do  especially,  and  for  six  months  I  herded  sheep. 
Maybe  I  don't  know  what  this  desert  means.  You  think 
you  do,  but  you  don't  You've  never  laid  out  there  under 
the  stars,  beside  a  little  mesquite  fire,  and  not  heard  a 
blamed  sound  except  when  a  lamb'd  bleat — nothin'  else — 
just  the  stars,  and  the  little  fire,  and  a  lamb  bleatin'.  God ! 
I  was  going  nutty,  and  quit.  I  got  the  job  at  the  wheel 
in  San  Luis  then,  and  afterwards  came  up  here.  I've 
lived  in  this  old  tent  ever  since.  It's  the  best  way.  It 
makes  it  longer.  And  now  I  ain't  got  a  job  at  all.  I've 
quit  over  at  the  '  Monte.'  " 

Sadie  turned. 

"  I  heard,"  she  said. 

"  I  told  Sansome  I  was  feeling  a  lot  better,"  he  added 
and  chuckled.  "  It's  a  lie.  I'm  worse.  That's  why  I 
quit.  A  new  man's  on  the  wheel.  I'm  through.  It's 
me  to  wait — now — that's  all.  Missus  Fernandez  is  awful 
nice  to  me,  though,  and  days  when  I  don't  feel  up  to 
crawlin'  over  there  she  brings  things  here  for  me  to  eat. 
So  between  her  frijoles  and  Jerry  Rowley's  canned  toma- 
toes, I  guess  I'll  pull  through." 

He  heard  the  catch  of  Sadie's  breath  and  leaned 
forward. 

"And  now  I've  gone  and  made  you  feel  bad,  telling 
you  all  this,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't  mean  to,  Sadie — only  I 
thought  maybe  it  would  make  it  easier  for  you,  after — 
after  the  telegram  you  got." 

She  went  quickly  to  him  and  knelt  beside  his  chair. 

"  You  have,  Skinny,"  she  said,  "  you  have." 

She  pressed  her  cheek  against  his  hand  where  it  lay, 
219 


Sadie 

passive,  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  His  eyes  closed,  and  a 
smile  of  childish  sweetness  hovered  about  his  lips. 

"  We  know  what  it  means,  Skinny,  don't  we — you 
and  I  ?  "  she  whispered.  Bending,  he  kissed  her  hair. 

"  Shall  I  light  your  lantern  ?  "  she  asked,  rising. 

"  Don't  bother,"  he  replied.  "  I  like  to  sit  here  and 
watch  the  night." 

An  instant  she  lingered  at  the  door  of  the  tent  as  if 
to  speak,  but  did  not. 

Wearily,  McGregor  got  upon  his  feet  and  from  be- 
tween the  flaps  watched  her  fleeting  figure  as  she  ran 
diagonally  across  Main  Street  toward  the  eating  house. 
Unconsciously,  it  seemed,  he  walked  away  from  the  tent, 
past  the  new  hotel,  out  upon  the  tracks.  Now  and  again 
he  muttered  to  himself,  and  once  he  stopped,  and  raising 
the  hand  against  which  her  cheek  had  pressed  gazed  at 
it,  then  kissed  it.  He  was  glad  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   MAN   FROM    KANSAS   CITY 

I  DIDN'T  mean  to  be  so  late,"  Sadie  declared  as  she 
opened  the  screen-door  of  the  eating-house  kitchen. 

Charley  looked  up  from  the  pudding  he  was  preparing. 

"  'Tain't  late ;  there's  time  enough,"  he  replied,  and 
broke  another  egg. 

"Where's  Mr.  Thompson?"  she  asked. 

The  cook  shook  his  white-capped  head. 

"  Dunno,"  he  said.  "  A  guy  dropped  off  Number  4 ; 
he's  outside  with  him,  I  guess." 

Just  then  Billy's  voice  sounded  quite  close  to  the 
window  and  Sadie  glanced  out.  She  heard  him  say: 
"  Couple  of  weeks  more  and  we'd  have  a  hotel  to  put 
you  in." 

The  back  of  the  man  with  whom  he  talked  was 
toward  her,  but  some  subtle  sense  marked  it  as  familiar. 
The  shoulders  were  narrow  and  slightly  bent.  The 
man  wore  a  slouch  hat  and  in  the  light  of  the  kitchen 
lamp  his  clothes  appeared  shabby.  Then  he  turned  and 
she  was  given  a  glimpse  of  his  profile.  One  hand  crept 
to  her  breast,  the  fingers  of  the  other  curled  stiffly  into 
the  palm.  With  a  little  catch  in  her  breath  she  turned 
quickly  from  the  window.  Charley  was  stirring  up  his 

221 


Sadie 

pudding  in  a  great  yellow  bowl  that  gleamed  in  the  lamp- 
light. 

"  I — I  guess  you'll — you'll  have  to  put  supper  on  the 
table,"  she  said. 

The  cook  turned. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked,  ceasing  to  stir;  "  you 
sick?  Look  like  you'd  seen  a  ghost." 

"  I  have — I  mean — I  mean  my  head  aches — awful," 
was  the  confused  reply.  Her  hand  hovered  over  the 
latch  of  the  door,  as  she  cast  a  quick  glance  toward  the 
window.  "  Tell  Mr.  Thompson  I  want  to  see  him — 
when  he  comes  in — will  you  ?  " 

Charley  did  not  answer  then,  but  when  the  little  door 
under  the  stairs  clicked  shut  he  muttered,  with  disgust: 
"  They're  all  alike,  only  I  had  it  figgered  out  as  how  she 
was  different." 

Sadie  did  not  stop  to  light  the  big  lamp  over  the 
lunch  counter,  but  ran  swiftly  up  the  stairs.  At  the  top 
she  stopped  an  instant  and  leaned  forward  listening,  then 
catching  her  breath  proceeded  slowly  down  the  narrow 
hallway.  The  door  of  the  room  at  the  end  stood  ajar. 
Unconsciously  she  walked  on  tiptoe  as  she  approached. 
Below,  she  heard  Charley  moving  around  in  the  kitchen 
and  whistling.  Cautiously  she  pushed  the  door  farther 
back,  shrinking  to  one  side  in  the  darkness  of  the  hall 
as  she  did  so.  The  room  was  deep  in  shadow,  yet  she 
was  able  to  distinguish  the  white  enamel  pitcher  standing 
on  the  floor  beside  the  iron  washstand,  the  crumpled 
towel  on  the  bed  at  the  foot,  and,  on  the  chair  by  the 
window,  a  suit  case.  Noiselessly,  she  glided  into  the 

222 


The  Man  from  Kansas  City 

room  and  directly  to  the  case.  Still  listening,  she  ran 
her  fingers  swiftly  over  the  catches  and  sprung  them. 
The  case  was  locked.  She  drew  in  her  breath  sibilantly 
between  closed  teeth.  As  she  turned  away  she  glimpsed 
the  initials,  painted  in  black  on  the  end  of  the  case,  and 
stooped,  the  more  clearly  to  make  them  out. 

W.  W.  PHILA. 

Wide-eyed  she  shrank  back  and  pressed  a  cold  hand 
to  her  cheek.  Sinking  upon  her  knees  beside  the  case 
she  alternately  stared  at  the  letters  and  out  the  window. 
From  the  distance  sounded  the  tinkle  of  a  bell,  and  she 
remembered  to-morrow  would  be  pay  day  at  the  borax 
works  and  the  night  would  be  an  orgy  in  Bagdad.  With 
a  little  shiver  she  rose.  Her  first  fear  had  given  way  to 
a  feeling  of  puzzlement.  She  heard  heavy  footfalls 
on  the  lunch-room  floor,  and  tiptoed  out  into  the  hall- 
way, drawing  the  door  half  shut,  as  she  had  found  it. 

In  her  own  room  she  flung  herself  upon  the  bed  and 
hid  her  face  against  the  pillow.  She  felt  strangely  cold, 
particularly  her  hands,  and  to  warm  them  she  tucked 
them  up  into  the  pits  of  her  arms  and  pressed  them  hard 
against  her  body. 

Charley  thrust  his  head  into  the  lunch  room,  caught 
Billy's  eye  and  beckoned.  The  stranger  was  leaning 
against  the  end  of  the  counter,  nervously  rolling  a 
cigarette. 

"  She  wants  to  see  you,"  Charley  whispered. 
223 


Sadie 

"Who?" 

"  Sadie." 

"Where  is  she?" 

Charley  gave  a  little  upward  jerk  of  his  head.  "  She 
came  in  a  few  minutes  ago;  said  she  was  sick.  I  told 
her  she  looked  like  she'd  seen  a  ghost.  She  said  she 
had."  He  grinned.  "  It's  the  sun,  I  guess,"  he  added. 

Sadie  was  startled  by  Thompson's  quick  knock  upon 
the  door. 

"  Come  in,"  she  called  weakly. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Sadie  ? "  he  asked,  beside  the 
bed.  "  Charley  said  he  thought  maybe  the  sun  had " 

"  Yes,"  she  broke  in — there  was  a  tremulous  tensity 
in  her  voice  that  he  had  never  heard  before — "  that's 
it,  I  guess — the  sun.  It's  my  head." 

Thompson  seated  himself  on  the  bed  beside  her. 
"Don't  you  want  a  light?"  he  asked.  "You  don't? 
Well,  never  mind.  Don't  worry.  You'll  feel  all  right 
in  the  morning.  Charley  can  run  things.  Don't  you 
worry." 

Leaning  over  her  he  caught  her  pale  smile,  and  perhaps 
in  his  eyes,  glowing  in  the  deep  dusk  of  the  room,  she 
saw  that  which  he  would  not  have  had  her  see,  for  she 
turned  her  head  on  the  pillow  and  stared  at  the  wall. 

"  I've  been  over  trying  to  cheer  up  Skinny,"  she  said. 
"  And  he's  so  sick  it — it  nearly  broke  my  heart.  He 
knows  it  won't  be  but  a  little  while  and — "  she  broke  off, 
turned  her  head,  and  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears. 

224 


The  Man  from  Kansas  City 

"  It  made  me  feel  so  blue,"  she  added.  "  That's  all — 
that  and  the  sun."  She  hesitated.  "  Charley  said  there's 
somebody  here ;  who  ?  " 

"  Fellow  by  the  name  of  Williams,"  Billy  told  her. 
"  Been  up  North ;  came  in  on  Number  4 " 

"  What's — what's — he  doing  here — Billy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Who?  Williams?  Nothing,  I  guess;  just  going 
through.  He's  broke,  I  reckon,  from  the  way  he  talks. 
Looks  like  they'd  trimmed  him — up  there." 

He  flirted  a  polka-dotted  handkerchief  from  the  breast 
pocket  of  his  trig  khaki  coat  and  wiped  his  hands. 

"  Don't  you  worry,"  he  reassured,  rising.  "  It'll  be 
all  right.  I'll  go  down  now.  You  try  to  get  some 
sleep." 

"  Oh,  Billy,"  she  called,  and  he  turned,  his  hand  on 
the  latch  of  the  door.  "  How — how  long's  Williams  go- 
ing to  stay  ?  " 

"  He  seems  to  want  to  blow  as  soon  as  he  can.  Says 
he's  got  to.  It's  important,"  he  told  her. 

((   T  >J 

1  see 

The  door  closed;  he  was  gone. 

For  a  long  time — hours  it  seemed  to  her — she  lay  on 
the  bed — thinking — listening.  What  should  she  do?  she 
asked  herself.  She  wondered  if  she  had  succeeded  in 
deceiving  Billy — and  doubted,  fearfully.  His  eyes,  as 
they  searched  her  own,  had  told  her  nothing.  They  were 
eyes  that  saw  everything — through  everything — but  only 
told  what  he  would  have  them  tell.  But  she  must  de- 
ceive him.  She  was  suddenly  startled  by  the  sound  of 
high-pitched  laughter  in  the  lunch  room  below.  She 

225 


Sadie 

realized  then  that  it  did  not  all  remain  with  her — whether 
the  others  should  learn.  A  word — a  name — a  question, 
and  everything  would  be  revealed.  Her  breath  caught 
in  her  throat. 

Noiselessly  she  slipped  from  the  bed  and  tiptoed 
across  the  room  to  the  little  bureau.  In  a  drawer,  be- 
neath a  pile  of  ribbons,  her  trembling  fingers  found  her 
rosary.  It  was  years  since  last  she  had  felt  the  little 
sliding  balls  as  she  felt  them  now.  By  the  window, 
she  fell  upon  her  knees  and  lifting  her  eyes  to  the  vel- 
vet sky  in  which  a  few  cold  stars  were  glittering,  she 
prayed,  the  while  her  stiff,  unfeeling  fingers  told  the 
beads.  .  .  . 

"  O  Mary,  Mother,  tell  me  what  to  do.  ...  I've  been 
so  happy  here.  .  .  .  I've  never  hurt  anybody.  .  .  don't 
let  them  hurt  me.  .  .  .  Tell  me  what  to  do.  ...  I  can't 
go  on  lying,  always.  .  .  .  Ain't  there  any  other  way  ?  .  .  . 
O  Mary,  Mother,  I'm  just  a  girl.  .  .  all  alone.  .  .  and  I 
don't  know  what  to  do."  .  .  . 

The  rosary  slipped  from  her  fingers  and  clicked  on 
the  floor.  Clutching  the  sill  of  the  window  she  bent 
her  head  upon  her  rigid  arms.  Thus  for  a  moment, 
then  she  slowly  lifted  her  face.  The  sound  of  voices 
— his  and  Billy's — arose  from  the  siding  beneath  the  win- 
dow. She  looked  down  upon  them,  clear  in  the  star- 
light. Billy  turned  back.  She  heard  him  in  the  lunch 
room — in  the  kitchen.  Alone,  the  stranger  glanced 
about  him,  then  slowly  walked  away,  down  the 
track. 

As  if  it  were  a  garment  loosely  worn  the  emotional 
226 


The  Man  from  Kansas  City 

stress  which  the  girl  had  suffered  slipped  from  her. 
Quickly  she  rose,  crossed  to  the  bureau,  and  from  one  of 
the  drawers  drew  out  the  gun  that  Billy  had  given  her. 
Holding  it  close  to  her  eyes  she  examined  it  by  the  light 
of  a  match,  and  spun  the  loaded  cylinder.  Then,  in  the 
darkness  again,  she  slipped  it  into  the  bosom  of  her  blouse 
and  went  out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs.  She 
heard  Billy  in  the  kitchen  and  cautiously  crossed  the 
lunch  room.  Once  outside,  on  the  cinders,  she  breathed 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

Down  the  track,  a  hundred  yards,  the  red  tank 
sprawled  on  its  four  slim  legs.  He  had  gone  that  way. 
Above,  the  night  was  shot  with  cross  beams  of  starlight 
like  a  great  spider  web.  The  wind  struck  cool  against 
her  cheek.  As  she  hastened  on,  she  felt,  now  and  then, 
for  the  little  gun,  lying  loosely  in  her  blouse,  and  as  she 
drew  near  the  tank  she  slipped  two  of  the  buttons  and 
thrusting  her  hand  inside,  gripped  it,  covering  the  ham- 
mer with  her  thumb,  that,  suddenly  withdrawn,  it  might 
not  catch  the  cloth.  Behind  the  tank  loomed  dimly  the 
pile  of  ties.  The  shadow  of  the  great  barrel  lay  sharp 
upon  the  sand.  Her  foot  struck  a  bit  of  rock  and  she 
stumbled.  At  the  sound  a  figure  appeared  at  the  edge 
of  the  shadow  blot,  and  she  pressed  herself  close  to  one 
of  the  tank's  slim  legs. 

The  face  of  the  man  as  he  peered  into  the  darkness 
whence  the  sound  had  come  was  clearly  revealed  to  her. 

Tightening  her  grip  upon  the  gun  in  her  bosom  she 
stepped  boldly  forth  into  the  starlight. 

"  Good  God !     Sadie  Morrison !  " 
227 


Sadie 

She  saw  his  wide,  staring  eyes,  and  his  flexed  jaw, 
as  he  clutched  the  leg  of  the  tank  for  support. 

"  Yes  " — her  voice  was  icy  cold — "  it's  Sadie  Mor- 
rison." 

She  took  a  step  nearer.  The  man  swallowed  dryly — 
she  saw  the  movement  of  his  throat  above  the  loose 
collar  of  his  flannel  shirt — and  started  to  speak,  but 
she  cut  him  short : 

"  What  you  doing  out  here — Jim  Lacy  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XIX 

AT  THE   WATER   TANK 

IN  the  aeon  that  elapsed  before  either  spoke  again, 
there  appeared  to  Sadie  a  vision.  .  .  . 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon  in  Chelsea  Park,  and  the 
band  was  playing  in  the  Chinese  Pavilion.  The  hard- 
trod  paths,  edged  with  white  stones  and  cracked  by  the 
intense  heat  of  that  summer,  glowed  in  the  yellow  sun- 
light. Sadie,  standing  by  the  platform  of  the  scenic 
railway,  in  her  blue  organdie,  with  nodding  pink  roses  on 
her  hat,  was  very  hot. 

Grace  and  Frances  had  promised  to  meet  her  here, 
by  the  garish,  little  Japanese  ticket  office  wherein,  at  the 
moment,  sat  a  sweltering  girl  in  a  scarlet  gown,  with  a 
scarlet  mortarboard  perched  rakishly  atop  her  yellow 
pompadour. 

It  was  the  biggest  day  of  the  season  thus  far.  The 
tenements  and  cheap  apartment  houses  of  a  vast  area 
of  which  the  Park  was  the  center  had  been  drained  by 
the  three  converging  car  lines,  and  every  pathway  was 
thronged  with  a  gayly  riotous  mob  whose  members  stren- 
uously sought  to  obtain  a  meed  of  pleasure  in  the  mishaps 
of  their  neighbors.  Laughter  was  the  keynote  of  the 
moment,  rising  above  even  the  rattle  and  clang  of  the 

229 


Sadie 

scenic,  the  drone  of  the  merry-go-rounds,  and  the  insist- 
ent click  of  the  turnstiles  at  the  main  entrance. 

Sadie  bent  her  head  and  read,  upside  down,  the  face 
of  the  little  blue  enameled  watch,  hanging  from  its 
glittering  rhinestone  bar  upon  her  bosom.  It  was  already 
half  an  hour  past  the  appointed  time  of  meeting.  Sadie 
fanned  herself  vigorously  with  the  palm-leaf  fan  a  boy 
at  the  gate  insisted  that  she  should  buy.  It  had  only 
cost  a  nickel  and  would  be  a  good  thing  to  have  lots  of 
times.  At  one  side  of  the  little  ticket  booth  she  hesi- 
tated a  moment  as  if  in  doubt,  then  untied  the  corner 
of  her  moist  handkerchief.  The  surging  crowd  and  the 
reeking  man  in  the  blue  cap  and  rumpled  uniform  did 
the  rest.  Almost  before  she  realized  it  had  occurred  she 
was  in  one  of  the  cars,  and  seating  herself  beside  a  man 
whom  she  had  never  seen  before.  The  perspiring  official 
in  the  rumpled  uniform  cried,  "  Let'er  go,"  and  the 
car  began  the  ascent  to  the  first  tower. 

In  any  event  the  ride  would  serve  to  cool  her  off.  She 
pushed  back  her  pompadour  and  drew  the  neck  of  her 
open-work  waist  away  from  her  hot  throat.  The  man 
beside  her  said  something,  but  she  made  no  reply.  Then 
the  car  shot  forward.  It  was  not  her  first  experience 
of  the  scenic;  long  since  had  the  original  thrill,  accom- 
paniment to  a  flight  down  the  steep  declivity,  been  lost 
to  her.  But  to-day  it  was  different.  The  overpowering 
heat,  the  relentless  glare  of  the  sun,  the  sickening  motion, 
and  the  deafening  clamor,  all  combined  to  destroy  the 
equilibrium  that  heretofore  she  had  never  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  maintain  on  the  device.  She  became  keenly  con- 

230 


At  the  Water  Tank 


scious  that  she  was  growing  light-headed  .  She  had  never 
fainted  in  her  life,  but  instinctively  she  realized  that  she 
was  fainting  now.  A  car,  on  the  return,  shot  past  them. 
The  man  at  her  side  waved  his  hand  and  shouted,  after 
the  approved  fashion  of  scenic  railway  travelers.  Then 
she  clutched  his  arm. 

"  I — I — I'm  going  to  faint,"  she  managed  to  mutter ; 
and  as  consciousness  lapsed  and  she  became  enveloped 
in  a  black  lassitude,  her  last  impression  was  of  the  clasp 
of  his  arm  about  her  and  the  feel  of  his  shoulder  against 
her  cheek.  .  .  . 

When  next  she  opened  her  eyes  she  was  sitting  on 
a  bench  by  the  platform,  and  before  her  hovered  a  root- 
beer  boy  staring  with  round,  marble  eyes  into  her  face. 

"  Here,  take  this,"  she  heard  a  voice  say.  "  Drink  it. 
It  will  make  you  feel  better." 

She  took  the  proffered  mug  and  drank  greedily.  The 
man  paid  the  boy  and  he  moved  slowly  away,  glancing 
back  over  his  shoulder  as  he  did  so. 

"  What  happened  ?  "  Sadie  asked,  then,  looking  up. 

The  man  was  smiling.  She  could  afford  to  smile, 
now,  too. 

"  Sorter  passed  away,  I  guess,"  he  said. 

"Did  I  really  faint?" 

"  Kind  o'  looked  like  it." 

"  Now  wouldn't  that  jar  you  ?  "  she  murmured ;  add- 
ing :  "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  though.  I  didn't  know 
I  was  such  a  fool." 

"  I  guess  it  was  the  heat,"  he  speculated. 

"  I  guess  so,"  she  agreed.  "  I  never  fainted  before 
10  231 


Sadie 

in  my  life.  It  ain't  like  what  I  thought  it  was  at  all.  I 
thought  it  made  you  sick  and  all  that.  It  don't,  though ; 
not  a  bit.  When  I  felt  myself  going  I  didn't  seem  to  care 
a  snap.  You  feel  just  grand — so  sorter  peaceful,  and 
sleepy,  and — and  soft." 

"  They  say  you  feel  that  way  when  you're  drowning," 
he  observed.  "  I  had  a  friend  once  that  went  down  four 
times,  and  when  they  got  him  out  and  he  come  to,  so's 
he  could  talk,  he  was  sore.  On  the  square,  he  was — sore. 
Said  he'd  never  felt  so  fine  in  his  life  as  when  he  went 
down  the  last  time.  According  to  him  all  that  stuff 
we  read  about  how  when  you're  drowning  everything 
you've  ever  done,  or  that's  ever  happened  to  you,  flashes 
over  you,  is  a  lot  of  rot." 

"  I  guess,  though,  I'd  rather  faint  than  drown,"  said 
Sadie,  seriously.  "  You  can  feel  like  that  a  lot  of  times 
if  you  only  faint,  but  you  can't  drown  but  once." 

"  That's  so,"  the  man  agreed. 

Then  he  asked  her  if  she  felt  able  to  walk  over  to  the 
Casino.  "  Mebbe  you'd  like  a  glass  of  lemonade,  or 
something,"  he  suggested. 

She  was  quite  passive  and  rose  unsteadily.  As  they 
walked  on  down  the  crowded  main  thoroughfare,  she 
told  him  how  it  chanced  that  she  was  in  the  Park  alone. 

"  Maybe  we'll  run  across  Grace  and  Frances  some- 
where," she  said. 

For  a  long  time  they  sat  facing  each  other  at  a  little 
table  on  the  roof  of  the  Casino  porch,  where,  as  Sadie  had 
said,  "  you  can  see  better."  Frankly  she  told  him  who 
she  was  and  he  replied : 

232 


At  the  Water  Tank 


"  Guess  I'll  have  to  feed  down  to  Kelsey's,  noons, 
after  this." 

"  Better  had,"  she  urged,  smiling. 

"  But  I  ain't  in  town  all  the  time,  you  know,"  he 
went  on.  "  I  travel  for  a  St.  Louis  shoe  house." 

"  Oh,  do  you  ?  "  Sadie  exclaimed.  "  Lots  of  travel- 
ing men  come  to  Kelsey's.  It's  so  near  the  depot."  .  .  . 

Later,  he  took  her  home,  and  the  next  day  .  .  .  and 
the  next  .  .  .  and  the  next  ...  he  saw  her  at  the 
restaurant.  .  .  . 

Every  little  detail  of  their  meetings  thereafter  flooded 
her  memory  now — all  that  she  had  tried  to  forget  in  the 
months  that  had  elapsed  since  their  last  brief  encounter, 
under  the  electric  light  in  front  of  Frieberg's  cut-rate 
ticket  office,  back — away  back — in  Kansas  City. 

The  cold  starlight  cut  her  lithe  figure  clean  against  the 
sand.  Her  numb  fingers  curled  tighter  around  the  grip 
of  the  gun  in  her  bosom. 

"  What  are  you  doin'  out  here  ?  " 

Lacy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  That  and  his  silence 
goaded  her  to  frenzy. 

"  Damn  you,  Jim  Lacy,"  she  snarled,  as  the  gun  leaped 
into  view,  "  the  last  time  I  saw  you  I  told  you  if  you  ever 
came  around  where  I  was  again,  I'd  kill  you — and  now 
I'm  going  to  do  it !  " 

He  sprang  toward  her  with  a  little  cry,  only  to  meet 
the  muzzle  of  the  weapon  presented  squarely  to  his  face, 
and  shrank  back. 

233 


Sadie 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  out  here,"  he  pleaded. 
"  Honest  to  God  I  didn't,  Sadie !  " 

"  You  lie !  "  she  challenged.  "  You  know  you  lie ! 
What  are  you  here  for,  if  it  ain't  because  they  told  you 
I  was  here?  Listen  to  me,  Jim  Lacy.  Bagdad  ain't  big 
enough  for  you  and  me.  This  whole  desert  ain't  big 
enough.  There's  just  two  ways  for  you  to  leave  this 
place — in  the  baggage  car,  layin'  down,  or  in  the  chair 
car,  sittin'  up.  There's  only  one  of  us  goin'  to  stay  on, 
and  that's  me !  " 

"  You  wouldn't " — the  words  came  in  an  awed 
whisper — "  you — wouldn't — really — kill — me — would — 
you — Sadie  ?  " 

She  saw  how  his  hand  trembled  as  he  raised  it  to 
his  forehead  to  wipe  away  the  sweat,  and  she  moved 
closer  to  him,  so  close  that  she  could  feel  his  breath  on 
her  face. 

"  Jim  Lacy,  listen  here."  Each  word  cut  like  a 
knife.  "  Out  in  this  country  there's  a  lot  of  snakes. 
Nearly  every  scrub  oak  and  mesquite  bush  from  here  to 
the  Pan-handle's  got  one  under  it;  but  every  time  our 
people  see  one  they  kill  it,  so  maybe  in  a  thousand  years 
there  won't  be  any  more.  Snakes  are  just  made  to  be 
killed,  and  that's  why  I'd  kill  you  as  quick  as  I  would 
one  of  them.  For  that's  all  you  are,  Jim  Lacy,  just  a 
snake!" 

Involuntarily  he  shrank  from  her. 

"As  for  what  might  happen  to  me  if  I  did,"  she  went 
on  hopelessly,  "  I  don't  care."  She  hesitated.  He  could 
not  wrench  his  eyes  from  her  face. 

234 


At  the  Water  Tank 


"  Shall  I  do  it  ?     Shall  I  ?     Or  are  you  goin'  to  go  ?  " 

He  realized  the  finality  of  the  question,  and  standing 
there,  shriveled  by  the  fire  of  her  words,  the  instant,  to 
him,  was  like  the  instant  before  the  springing  of  a  trap. 
Hers  then  was  the  spirit  of  the  desert  about  them,  the 
desert  which  had  made  her  a  part  of  itself.  No  less 
cruel  was  it,  no  less  a  menace  to  the  shrinking  creature 
before  her.  An  instant  he  hesitated,  then,  loosening  his 
grip  upon  the  tank's  attenuated  leg,  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands  and  sank,  sobbing,  upon  his  knees. 

"  I  never  meant  to  do  you  any  harm,  Sadie — never !  " 
fell  haltingly  from  his  lips. 

"  It  ain't  what  you  did  to  me,  or  what  you  didn't  do, 
that  matters,"  was  her  unrelenting  answer.  "  It's  what 
you  did  to  her — the  woman  you  gave  your  name  to. 
Poor  little,  frail  thing — you  never  knew  it — but  I  saw 
her  once — after  I  found  out.  It's  what  you  did  to  her — 
the  mother  of  your  little  boy.  If  he's  looking  down  at 
you  now,  what  do  you  suppose  he  thinks — that  little 
boy — up  there  ?  "  With  the  gun  she  pointed  to  the  vel- 
vet, star-pierced  sky. 

"  Sadie,  for  God's  sake  " — and  he  reached  out  blindly 
to  clutch  her  skirt. 

"  God's  got  a  heap  of  use  for  you,"  she  sneered. 
"  Maybe  if  I  hadn't  found  out  when  I  did  I'd  V  had  a 
finish  like  a  lot  of  other  girls  back  there  in  Kansas  City. 
It  ain't  the  finish  I'd  'a'  had,  though,  that'd  'a'  mattered, 
but  the  one  she'd  'a'  had  when  she  found  out  how  you'd 
been  stringin'  me,  and  makin'  me  promise  I'd  marry  you 
in  a  year — and  she  alive,  and  never  knowing  but  what 

235 


Sadie 

you  were  on  the  square — and  dreaming  about  that  little 
boy " 

"  In  God's  name,  Sadie,"  he  whispered  raucously, 
"  do  it  if  you're  goin'  to!  Do  it  now!  I've  come  as  far 
as  I  could.  I  can't  get  any  farther  " — his  voice  broke. 
"All  I've  got  on  earth's  two  dollars.  That  won't  take 
you  far,  out  here."  He  looked  up  at  her  then,  and 
she  read  the  utter  hopelessness  in  his  eyes.  "  It  don't 
make  any  difference,  after  all.  If  you  don't  do  it,  the 
others  will.  It's  you,  Sadie,  or  the  law !  " 

Crouching  over  him,  "  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she 
demanded. 

"  I  mean  " — he  faltered,  and  the  rest  came  with  physi- 
cal effort — "  I've  done  what  you  were  going  to  do — 
murder." 

"Murder!" 

Slowly,  all  that  this  confession  meant  dawned  upon 
her. 

"  Jim  Lacy !  "  she  murmured,  "  Jim  Lacy ! " 

Lifting  his  eyes  they  saw  the  horror  in  her  own. 

"  No !  No !  "  he  cried,  clutching  her  skirt,  "  not  that ! 
Oh,  not  that!  She  died,  Sadie — she  died  six  months 
ago.  She  never  knew.  She's  gone,  Sadie — gone  to  join 
him."  Then  his  eyes  fell  as  he  ran  on  heedlessly.  "  It 
was  because  I  knew  she  must  die  that  I  lied  to  you, 
Sadie.  Only  because  I  knew."  She  pulled  away  as  if 
his  touch  were  contaminating.  "  You'll  never  under- 
stand, Sadie;  but,  oh,  I  loved  you  so,  girl!  You  came 
to  me  when  everything  was  black  and  your  love  seemed 
to  promise  me  all  that  I  was  hungry  for  and  couldn't  have. 

236 


At  the  Water  Tank 


The  thought  of  losing  you  nearly  drove  me  crazy.  I 
didn't  tell  you  about  her  'cause  I  thought  we  could  go 
on  for  a  year  as  we  had — until  it  was  all  over  with  her — 
for  God's  sake,  don't  look  at  me  like  that!  Don't  look 
at  me  like  that ! " 

She  turned  away,  one  hand  clutching  her  breast. 

"  No  matter  what  had  'a'  happened,  I'd  never  have 
done  you  dirt.  I  couldn't,  girl,  I  loved  you  so " 

Dazedly  she  brushed  her  hand  across  her  eyes.  Vali- 
antly she  strove  to  beat  back  the  passion  consuming  her 
as  once  she  had  before.  Unsteadily,  Lacy  rose  and 
came  toward  her.  The  gun  had  slipped  from  her  nerve- 
less fingers  and  lay  forgotten  in  the  sand  at  her  feet. 
She  did  not  draw  back  when  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her 
arm,  only  turned  and  gazed  blankly  into  his  pleading 
eyes. 

"  Listen,  Sadie,"  he  went  on,  more  calmly  now. 
"A  little  while  after  you  left,  Jennie  began  to  get  worse. 
I'd  known  for  a  long  time  that  there  was  no  hope  for  her. 
She  wasn't  ever  real  well  after  little  Frank  was  born. 
Then,  six  months  ago,  she  died — and  that  was  the  end 
of  me.  What  was  there  left?  I  got  so  I  didn't  care. 
I'd  lost  you,  and  I'd  lost  him,  and  I'd  lost  her.  I  was 
always  kind  to  her  and  sometimes  I've  thought  if  she'd 
'a'  known  she'd  'a'  been  glad.  She  was  that  sort.  And 
all  she  talked  and  worried  about  when  she  knew  she 
couldn't  get  well  was  what  would  happen  to  me — after- 
wards. Once  I  came  near  telling  her  about  you — but 
something  held  me  back.  So  she  never  knew — and  died 
— worrying.  Then  everything  went  to  hell — everything. 

237 


Sadie 

My  work  got  rotten.  I  didn't  care.  The  house  stood  it 
as  long  as  they  could,  then  let  me  out.  Maybe  I  could 
'a'  got  another  job,  but  I  didn't  want  one.  What  was 
the  use  anyway?  I  put  all  the  money  together  I  could 
rake  and  scrape  and  came  out  here — Nevada.  The 
papers  back  East  were  full  of  the  gold  strike  up  there, 
and  I  thought — mebbe — there'd  be  a  chance  for  me.  But 
most  of  all  I  wanted  to  get  away — somewhere  where 
things  were  different,  where  every  corner  and  every  street 
car  wouldn't  remind  me  of  what  I'd  got  to  forget.  I  put 
all  my  money  in  a  mining  game,  up  there,  and  lost  it  in 
two  months.  Then  I  hit  the  trail  for  the  hills.  I  fell 
in  with  a  fellow  who  was  out  here  for  the  gold — same 
as  I  was — and  we  went  up  to  Leaders  together.  It's 
in  the  hills — the  newest  camp.  A  week  ago  to-night  he 
and  I  had  a  row.  It  was  over  a  rotten  game  of  cribbage. 
He  said  I  cheated.  I  saw  red,  Sadie.  We  were  all 
alone.  I  shot  twice.  He  fell  on  his  face,  and  never 
spoke  another  word.  I  couldn't  realize  what  I'd  done. 
I  got  down  on  my  knees  and  turned  him  over,  and  there, 
right  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  was  a  spot  of  blood. 
Then  I  knew  I'd  killed  him.  I  had  to  get  away.  I  only 
had  a  few  dollars,  and  he  had  a  few.  I  took  his  and 
mine — managed  to  reach  Tonapah.  Then  I  came  down 
here.  Maybe  they've  not  found  him  yet — but  when 
they — do — Sadie  " — his  whole  body  trembled. 

"  They'll  hang  me,"  he  whispered. 

"Jim!" 

She  seized  his  cold  hands  in  both  hers. 

"  So  you  see,"  he  went  on,  with  a  little  shrug  of  the 
238 


At  the  Water  Tank 


shoulders — "  it  don't  make  any  difference  which  does 
it — you — or  they " 

But  she  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  last,  and  when  she 
spoke,  the  words  came  in  a  swift  torrent,  half  frantically. 

"  Jim,  Jim,  you've  got  to  get  away — maybe  they'll  be 
here  to-morrow — maybe  they're  here  now — to-night. 
Listen — O  God,  the  money — the  money — the  money !  " 
With  her  clenched  fist  she  smote  her  hip.  "  I've  only  got 
ten  dollars — my  mother  died,  Jim — my  poor  old  mother. 
I  sent  so  much  to  the  Sisters — I  can't  borrow — maybe 
Fernandez  " — suddenly  she  stopped,  breathless,  and  into 
her  eyes  came  a  new  and  different  light,  and  without 
warning  she  laughed — a  high-pitched,  hysterical  laugh. 
"  I  know,"  she  cried.  "  Jim — Jim — do  as  I  say.  Stay 
in  your  room  to-morrow — alone — I'll  get  you  the  ten 
dollars — to-morrow's  the  day  they  pay  off  at  the  works — 
town'll  be  full  to-morrow  night — Jim,  listen,  you  must 
be  at  the  '  Monte  ' — Fernandez's  place — at  half  past  nine. 
That'll  give  you  time  to  catch  Number  7  for  the  Coast 
at  ten.  And,  Jim,  no  matter  what  happens,  no  matter 
what  you  see — play  the  wheel.  Do  you  hear — play  the 
wheel — this  combination  " — her  lips  close  to  his  ear  she 
whispered  the  numbers — "  Do  you  understand  ?  I  know 
you  can't  see  through  the  plan — but,  Jim,  for  God's  sake, 
do  as  I  tell  you.  Play  the  wheel — that  way — no  matter 
what  happens.  Now  stay  here  till  I  get  back  to  the 
eating  house.  Don't  look  at  me — don't  notice  me."  Her 
face  was  close  to  his.  "  Don't  be  afraid,"  she  ran  on. 
"  Don't  be  afraid.  They're  not  going  to  get  you.  To- 
morrow night  at  this  time  you'll  be  on  your  way  to  the 

239 


Sadie 

Coast — you'll  get  the  money,  Jim — for  we're  going  to 
bust  the  bank  at  the  '  Monte ' !  " 

Without  giving  him  a  chance  to  question  her  she 
sprang  away  and  he  saw  her  fleeting  figure  in  the  star- 
light, down  the  tracks.  And  when  the  shadow  of  the 
station  hid  her  he  followed,  slowly,  to  vanish  as  she 
had  vanished. 

The  pale  luster  of  the  night  trembled  on  the  sand. 
Away  off  in  the  distance  a  coyote  wailed,  and  around 
the  end  of  the  pile  of  ties  behind  the  water  tank 
came  a  frail,  hesitating  figure,  to  be  revealed,  presently, 
clear  and  distinct  in  the  silver  starlight.  The  glitter  of 
an  object,  half  buried  in  the  sand,  attracted  his  glowing 
eyes.  Stooping  he  recovered  it,  murmuring :  "  She 
even  forgot  Billy's  present."  He  blew  the  dust  from  the 
cylinder  and  wiped  it  carefully  on  his  sleeve.  Then 
holding  it  on  a  level  with  his  eyes  so  that  the  starlight 
twinkled  opalescently  on  the  pearl  grip :  "  She  didn't 
need  you  to-night,  after  all,  did  she?"  he  said,  adding, 
as  if  the  one  thought  followed  logically  the  other: 
"  Oh,  Sadie,  Sadie,  what  is  it  makes  us  love  you  so?  " 

But  the  desert  night  about  him  held  no  answer. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    "  MONTE " 

BILLY  THOMPSON'S  resignation  from  the  System 
was  regretfully  received  in  Kansas  City,  and  Ste- 
vens, as  he  read  it,  decided  that  it  might,  perhaps,  be 
well  to  "  run  out "  to  Bagdad  and  look  the  ground  over 
before  appointing  a  permanent  successor.  The  letter  was 
characteristically  to  the  point,  and  left  no  doubt  of  the 
finality  of  the  writer's  decision.  Though  he  noted  this, 
Stevens  smiled,  nevertheless,  as  he  read  it. 

"  It  ain't  all  of  a  sudden  " — so  the  letter  ran — "  for 
I've  been  giving  it  a  lot  of  thought.  While  nobody  knows 
better  than  I  do  that  Billy  Thompson,  maybe,  couldn't 
make  a  glittering  success  of  the  St.  Regis,  or  any 
other  caravanserie  of  civilization,  he  has  got  the  right 
dope  on  this  country  and  knows  how  to  pass  out  three- 
weeks-old  canned-fruit  pie-cuts  and  get  away  with  it  on 
the  strength  of  fresh  fillings.  Also  I  ain't  as  young  as 
I  used  to  be.  If  I  stayed  on,  some  day  you'd  send  a 
rah-rah  boy  out  here  to  take  my  job,  then  it  would  be 
me  for  the  faro  box.  Nix  for  mine,  Stevie!  Al  Tun- 
nison  has  recognized  my  ability  with  the  nude  eye,  and 
the  share  in  the  business  that  he  offers  makes  the  tempta- 
tion of  St.  Anthony  look  like  a  ham  omelet  to  a  man  with 
dyspepsia.  I  know  you'll  understand.  Better  come  out 

241 


Sadie 

yourself.     And  by  the  way,  Miss  Morrison's  going  with 
me  as  housekeeper.     Regards  to  the  boys."  .  .  . 

Stevens  was  folding  the  letter  as  Hutchinson  entered 
his  office. 

Hutchinson  was  freckled  and  fat  and  red-headed ;  the 
tip  of  a  blue  penholder  projected  over  his  ear  in  the  usual 
way  and  in  one  hand  he  clutched  a  roll  of  typed  "  flimsy." 
It  may  be  recalled  that  on  that  momentous  afternoon 
when  Sadie  first  sought  out  the  superintendent  of  the 
Carter  System  in  his  little  room  overlooking  the 
network  of  tracks  in  the  "  yards  "  below,  she  had  asked 
direction  from  a  red-headed  youth  she  chanced  to  meet 
in  the  corridor.  That  was  Hutchinson. 

"  How's  tricks  ?  "  he  inquired,  leaning  over  the  super- 
intendent's desk. 

"  Billy  Thompson's  going  to  blow  the  works  out'n 
Bagdad,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  don't  tell  me !  "  exclaimed  Hutch,  as  he  was 
familiarly  called  in  the  offices.  "  What's  the  row  ?  " 

Stevens  told  him,  adding  casually :  "  Remember 
that  girl  I  sent  out  there  ?  " 

"  That  nectarine  with  the  gold  in  her  teeth  ?  " 

The  superintendent  nodded,  somewhat  wearily,  per- 
haps. 

"Well?" 

"  She's  got  Billy  jumping  through  fried  cakes,  just 
like  I  told  you  she  would.  Looks  like  she  was  It." 

"  You  don't  say !  Now  what  do  you  think  of  that !  " 
was  all  Hutch  found  it  possible,  on  the  moment,  to  ob- 
serve by  way  of  comment. 

242 


The  " Monte" 

Stevens's  face  suddenly  lighted. 

"  Say,"  he  exclaimed,  "  how'd  you  like  to  take  a  hike 
out  there  in  a  couple  of  weeks,  just  to  look  the  ground 
over?  I  haven't  got  anybody  I  can  send  right  off  the  bat. 
I  ought  to  have,  though,  for  I've  been  expecting  some- 
thing of  the  kind  for  the  last  six  months,  from  the  tone 
of  Billy's  letters.  Maybe  you'd  have  to  stop  on  a  while 
and  run  things.  Go  ?  " 

"  Sure,  if  you  want  me  to."  There  was,  however,  a 
lack  of  eagerness  in  Hutch's  assurance. 

"All  right,  I'll  take  it  up  with  the  old  man  this  after- 
noon." 

Stevens  appeared  greatly  relieved. 

At  the  door  Hutchinson  turned. 

"  Say,"  he  said,  "  don't  give  him  the  notion  I  want 
to  go.  If  you  do  he'll  let  it  stand  for  a  vacation  and'll 
euchre  me  out  of  Topeka.  I've  been  planning  to  put  in 
a  couple  of  weeks  over  there  in  August." 

This  with  an  illuminating  wink. 

"  So  you've  got  it,  too,  have  you  ?  "  Stevens  inquired, 
with  no  effort  to  conceal  his  disgust. 

"  Some,"  was  the  terse  acknowledgment  as  the  door 
closed  upon  Hutch's  squat  figure. 

Thereupon  Stevens  wrote  Thompson  a  letter  in  long 
hand,  an  honor  rarely  conferred  by  him  upon  any  of  the 
System's  numerous  local  managers,  in  which  he  expressed 
his  own  regret  to  lose  so  excellent  a  lieutenant,  at  the 
same  time  congratulating  him  upon  what  might,  after  all, 
prove  to  be  his  good  luck.  It  was  this  letter  that  San- 
some  handed  Billy  as  the  latter  strolled  into  th£  Always 

243 


Sadie 

Open  after  supper  on  the  evening  with  which  this  chapter 
is  concerned. 

To  him  the  day  had  been  prosaically  stupid ;  stupid  in 
the  precise  degree  that  to  an  Eastern  story  writer  in 
search  of  colorous  copy  it  would  have  been  wildly  excit- 
ing. It  was  such  another  day  as  Bagdad  had  experienced, 
monthly,  since  the  founding  of  the  town  seven  years 
before. 

Properly,  it  had  begun  at  dawn  when  a  leathery  faced 
borax  miner,  in  a  moment  of  exuberant  anticipation,  fell 
afoul  of  a  sheep  herder  from  "  over  East."  That  the 
herder  should  subsequently  have  been  gathered  to  the 
flock,  so  far  as  further  participation  in  the  multitudinous 
glories  of  the  day  was  concerned,  and  for  eight  hours 
had  lain  in  a  trance-like  state  in  the  dark  and  hellishly 
hot  "  back  room  "  of  The  Golden  Fleece,  at  the  end  of 
Main  Street,  was  a  matter  of  slight  moment,  particularly 
to  the  sheepman.  And  that  his  valorous  conqueror  had 
forthwith  deemed  it  his  religious  duty  to  shoot  up  the 
town,  until  shorn  of  his  guns  by  a  little  fellow  in  cor- 
duroy pants,  a  blue  shirt,  and  a  deputy  sheriff's  badge 
glittering  on  his  single  striped  suspender,  was  likewise 
an  incident  of  trifling  importance. 

By  ten  o'clock  Main  Street  for  its  entire  length  was 
fringed  with  ponies,  dependent  of  head  and  tail,  dozing 
in  the  sun.  Every  cowboy,  miner,  Chinaman,  negro, 
borax  digger,  mule  driver,  and  painted  lady  whose  vary- 
ing fields  of  effort  lay  within  forty  miles  of  town  was 
in  that  lurid  thoroughfare,  or  the  various  places  of  re- 
laxation and  refreshment  giving  from  it.  Moreover,  as 

244 


The  "Monte" 

it  chanced  to  be  the  fiesta  of  St.  Francis  of  blessed 
memory,  there  was  present  a  generous  sprinkling  of 
gaudy  Mexicans  and  glowering  greasers,  all  of  whom 
were  more  or  less  bubbling  with  a  chemical  combination 
of  agulendente,  mescal,  and  garlic,  to  the  greater  glory 
of  their  God ! 

At  high  noon,  beneath  a  sun  that  poured  a  molten 
flood  of  yellow  upon  the  blistering  sand  of  Main  Street, 
had  occurred  a  pony  race  between  four  Navajo  Indians, 
one  of  them,  it  may  be  said  in  passing,  he  whom  Sadie 
had  rescued  from  the  mob  of  children  on  the  day  of  her  ar- 
rival in  Bagdad.  The  prize — a  dollar  bottle  of  Mulvaney's 
Stomach  Bitters  (not  a  beverage  but  a  medicine) — had 
been  bestowed  with  becoming  ceremony  upon  a  tall,  lithe 
buck,  much  to  his  gratification  and  the  chagrin  of  the 
other  contestants  as  evidenced  by  the  glances  of  devour- 
ing envy  cast  by  them  upon  him  where  he  lay  prone  upon 
a  bed  of  old  salmon  tins  and  breakfast-food  boxes  behind 
the  Bon  Marche,  his  glazed,  unblinking  eyes  staring 
sightlessly  at  the  gleaming  sky.  In  order,  however,  that 
there  may  be  no  misapprehension  on  the  part  of  any 
reader  of  this  chronicle,  it  needs  be  said  that  the  prize 
had  not  been  obtained  from  Rowley's  stock.  In  point  of 
fact,  since  the  night  of  his  first  call  upon  Sadie,  Jerry  had, 
in  so  far  as  within  him  lay,  obeyed  the  laws  and  mandates 
of  a  wise,  if  oftentimes  obtuse,  paternal  government  in 
the  matter  of  dispensing  certain  popular  and  generally 
effective  remedial  agents  to  the  noble  red  man.  As  he  per- 
ceived Sadie,  the  law's  good  angel,  approaching  the  Bon 
Marche  across  Main  Street,  it  was  instinct  only,  and  not 

245 


Sadie 

a  guilty  conscience,  that  prompted  him  to  rush  to  where 
lay  the  snoring  brave  and  hastily  cover  him  with  a  burlap, 
at  the  same  time  declaring  to  the  trio  that  stood  by  in 
silent  contemplation  of  their  dreaming  brother,  that  if 
they  "  didn't  git  t'  hell  out  o'  here  "  he  would  give  them 
something  to  carry  back  to  their  hogans  that  their  squaws 
would  have  to  dig  out  of  them  with  case  knives. 

By  midafternoon  there  were  the  usual  number  of 
drunks  in  the  street,  and  the  usual  number  of  fights  in 
progress  at  various  points ;  notably,  one  in  which  a  borax 
miner  received  a  bullet  in  the  thigh,  a  second  in  which 
a  Mexican  broke  the  blade  of  his  knife  against  the  rib 
of  a  compatriot  during  an  argument  over  the  too 
luxurious  charms  of  a  dusky  border  belle  who  stood  at 
one  side  impatient  to  take  to  her  capacious  bosom  him 
whose  ribs  should  prove  the  harder;  and  a  third  on  the 
floor  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  in  which  a  sheepman — with 
the  eyes  of  a  seer  and  a  torso  gritty  with  sand — fought 
it  out  with  a  cowboy,  fist  and  fist,  over  a  little  gold  and 
enamel  pin  bearing  three  Greek  letters  and  a  lamp  of 
wisdom,  which,  by  common  knowledge,  the  puncher  was 
known  always  to  wear  on  the  point  of  his  shirt  collar, 
and  ever  to  defend  with  valor — and  whatever  else  chanced 
to  be  at  hand — when  he  was  contemptuously  referred  to, 
in  his  own  presence,  as  a  "  rah-rah  boy." 

In  a  word,  thus  far  the  day  had  in  no  way  differed 
from  all  the  pay  days  that  had  gone  before,  unless,  per- 
haps, it  had  been  a  little  quieter. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Billy  Thompson  sauntered  over 
to  McGregor's  tent,  immaculately  clad  in  a  new,  light 

246 


The  "Monte" 

gray,  Norfolk  suit,  the  coat  of  which  was  buttoned  only 
at  the  waist  over  his  ox-blood  shirt,  in  order,  should 
occasion  and  circumstance  demand,  he  might  readily 
"  draw  "  from  the  Mexican  shoulder  holster  under  his 
left  arm. 

Oblivious  to  the  clamor  in  the  street,  Skinny  had  slept 
all  the  afternoon  and  it  was  Billy's  step  on  the  creaky 
flooring  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent  that  awakened  him 
now.  Laboriously  he  raised  his  shrunken  body  to  a 
sitting  posture  and  rubbed  his  eyes. 

"  Well,"  he  yawned,  stretching  like  a  cat  from  his 
toes  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  "  what's  happened ;  any- 
thing?" 

Insufferably  bored,  Thompson  shook  his  head  and 
seated  himself  on  a  canvas  camp  stool. 

"  What  I  can't  figure  out,"  Skinny  complained,  "  is 
why  when  they  hook  in  their  mazuma  they  don't  git 
drunk  and  stay  drunk — decent;  instead  of  trying  to  see 
who  can  raise  the  most  dust." 

Billy  sighed.  "  The  Lord  knows,"  he  declared,  "  and 
He  won't  tell." 

Presently  he  inquired  casually: 

"Sadie  been  over  to-day?" 

"A  little  while  this  morning,"  McGregor  told  him. 
"  She  brought  me  some  fried  cakes.  That  guy's  still  at 
the  eatin'  house,  is  he  ?  " 

His  eyes  narrowed.  Did  Billy  know  what  he  knew? 
Skinny  asked  himself. 

"  Says  he's  goin'  to-night,"  was  the  reply,  and  Skinny 
drew  a  breath  of  relief. 

17  247 


Sadie 

Until  almost  morning,  in  the  stillness,  he  had  lain 
awake,  thinking  things  over,  as  he  expressed  it,  and  at  last, 
almost  as  if  in  a  dream,  there  had  been  presented  to  his 
troubled  mind  a  way  whereby  he  might  help.  But  Billy 
must  not  know;  Billy  must  never  know. 

"  Say,"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  moment,  "  I'm  gettin' 
sick  of  this  place  even  if  the  railroad  is  comin'  and  the 
Palace  is  pretty  near  done,  and  I've  just  about  made  up 
my  mind  to  pull  freight." 

Billy  looked  up.  How  many  times  had  he  heard 
Skinny  say  that?  He  was  more  keenly  sensible  of  the 
pathos  enveloping  the  little  figure  there  on  the  edge  of 
the  cot,  that  moment,  than  ever  before.  You  are  going 
to  pull  freight,  little  chap,  he  thought — and  soon.  I 
wonder  if  you  know  where  your  next  camp'll  be. 
You've  played  the  game  to  the  limit  and  you've  played 
it  on  the  level,  but  the  cards  have  been  stacked  against 
you,  and  Fate  has  worked  a  holdout.  She's  skinned  you, 
but  nobody  could  win  in  a  crooked  game  like  that,  could 
they? 

"  Oh,  I  wouldn't  go  if  I  was  you,  Skinny.  Maybe 
something  will  turn  up ;  can't  always  tell,"  he  said. 

McGregor  was  rolling  a  cigarette,  rolling  it  with  great 
pains.  As  he  moistened  the  paper  he  said,  with  a  smile : 

"  Billy,  why  don't  you  marry  Sadie,  and  get  it  over  ?  " 

Thompson  grinned  and  shifted  his  position. 

"  That's  about  the  tenth  time  you've  asked  me  that," 
he  replied,  "  and  I've  told  you  before,  it  ain't  up  to  me. 
She  just  can't  see  it,  that's  all.  Skinny  " — a  serious  look 
came  into  his  eyes  as,  leaning  forward,  he  went  quietly 

248 


The  "Monte" 

on — "  she  thought  a  heap  of  some  fellow — once."  Mc- 
Gregor's eyes  narrowed  again.  "  She  as  much  as  told 
me  so,  coming  back  from  that  dance  we  went  to  down't 
San  Luis.  It  was  on  account  of  him — a  guy  in  Kansas 
City — that  she  hit  Bagdad  in  the  first  place.  I  got  that 
all  right.  And  lately  she's  asked  a  lot  of  questions  about 
Curly  Watrous " 

"  Curly  Watrous !  "  McGregor  interrupted  blankly. 

Billy  nodded.  "  That  same  night — comin'  back,"  he 
went  on.  "  He  was  there  and  she  saw  him.  And  after- 
wards she  asked  Jerry  Rowley  a  lot  about  him,  too. 
Jerry  told  me.  She  had  him  goin'  but  he  didn't  let  on. 
'Course  I  passed  it  off,  but  " — he  hesitated — "  Skinny,  do 
you  s'pose  she  ever  knew  Curly  before?  Do  you  s'pose 
he  was  the  guy  ?  " 

"  Did  he  come  from  K.  C.  ?  "  McGregor's  brow  lifted 
inquiringly. 

"  Don't  anybody  seem  to  know,  b'rights." 

"  She  never  mentioned  him  to  me,"  declared  Skinny. 

He  had  let  his  cigarette  go  out.  This  new  turn 
puzzled  him.  With  almost  phonographic  accuracy  he 
recalled  every  word  that  he  had  heard  pass  between  Sadie 
and  Lacy  at  the  tank,  but  nothing  either  had  said  served 
to  cast  a  ray  of  light  upon  this  new  phase  affairs  were 
showing. 

"  Either  she  did  know  him — back  there,"  Thompson 
ran  on,  "  or  else  she's  just  interested  in  him  all  of  a  sud- 
den, like  I  guess  girls  are,  sometimes." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  her  ?" 

Billy  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  rose,  smiling. 
249 


Sadie 

"  There's  some  things,  Skinny,"  was  his  slow  reply, 
"  that  you  can't  ask  a  girl — like  Sadie.  That's  one  of 
'em." 

"  Mebbe  that's  so,"  McGregor  thoughtfully  agreed. 

And  as  if  by  mutual  consent  the  subject  was  straight- 
way dropped. 

"  I  s'pose  there'll  be  the  usual  time  to-night,"  Skinny 
speculated. 

"  Comin'  out  to  lend  a  hand  ?  "  Thompson  inquired. 

"  'Fraid  my  sportin'  days  are  over,  Jessie  dear,"  was 
the  ironical  reply,  "  unless  " — he  caught  himself.  "  Guess 
not,"  he  concluded  lamely. 

But  Billy  Thompson  had  barely  reached  the  other  side 
of  Main  Street  before  the  little  gambler,  first  hooking 
the  flaps  of  his  tent,  proceeded  to  change  his  shirt  and 
otherwise  prepare  himself  for  the  adventure  that  lay 
before  him.  And  as  he  moved  about,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  cough,  he  whistled  and  hummed  alternately  a 
plaintive  little  melody  that  his  mother  had  taught  him  and 
memory  of  which,  like  a  faint  echo  of  the  long  ago,  had 
come  to  him  that  morning,  quite  suddenly,  as  he  lay 
dozing  on  the  cot. 

What  if  Billy  Thompson  "were  sick  at  heart?  What 
if  Lacy  -were  shrinking  from  imagined  dangers  in  his 
little  bare  room  at  the  eating  house?  What  if  Curly 
Watrous,  a  man  from  nowhere,  had  become  a  factor  in 
the  little  life  problem  of  which  Chance  had  given  him 
the  key  ?  What  of  all  this  in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  to- 
night he  was  going  to  do  something  that  for  two  years  he 
had  dreamed  of  one  day  doing?  He  was  going  to  help 

250 


The  "Monte" 

Sadie.  And  even  the  thought  which  kept  crowding  into 
his  calculations  that  she  was  no  doubt  at  this  very 
moment  alone  in  her  room  praying  God  to  send  her  that 
assistance  she  could  not  foresee  was  coming — even  this 
thought  was  rendered  less  disturbing  to  the  little  fellow's 
childishly  simple  mind,  by  the  presence  of  the  greater 
thought  that  he — he,  at  last — was  going  to  help! 

It  was  night,  and  Bagdad  had  caught  its  second  wind. 
Every  establishment  in  Main  Street  was  alight.  In  the 
Bon  Marche  Rowley  and  his  two  helpers  were  busier 
than  they  had  been  on  any  night  since  the  proprietor's 
return  from  the  North.  A  dozen  prospecting  outfits  were 
purchasing  equipment,  and  in  front  of  the  store  three 
Mexicans  kept  together  a  number  of  burros  patiently 
awaiting  their  packs.  Sansome,  too,  in  the  Always 
Open  Drug  Store  was  packing  medicine  kits  and  talking 
to  half  a  dozen  grizzled  miners  at  once,  all  of  whom  were 
eager  to  take  the  trail  in  order  that  the  greatest  possible 
breadth  of  sand  might  be  put  between  themselves  and 
Bagdad  before  sunrise.  The  air  was  clamorous. 
Through  the  open  doors  of  the  saloons  floated  out  the 
varied  sounds  of  human  revelry.  Somewhere  a  concer- 
tina whined,  its  strains  now  and  then  blending  in  a  singu- 
larly harmonious  effect  with  those  of  a  distant  B-flat 
cornet.  Down  the  street  came  a  line  of  blanketed  In- 
dians, who,  as  they  walked,  glanced  neither  to  right  nor 
left.  A  huge  miner,  agreeably  drunk,  took  up  a  position 
in  front  of  the  Golden  Fleece  and  leaning  against  a  hitch- 
post  sighed  soulfully  through  a  Jew's-harp.  In  the 

251 


Sadie 

shadow  at  the  end  of  the  Bon  Marche  another  Indian 
leaned  against  the  wall  and  growled  a  love  song  of  his 
people.  Chinamen,  their  immobile  faces  gleaming  as 
they  crossed  the  paths  of  light,  jostled  glowering 
greasers,  their  features  more  than  half  hidden  by  the  dip- 
ping brims  of  their  peaked  sombreros ;  borax  miners,  the 
skin  of  whose  faces  reminded  one  of  old  tan  shoes, 
elbowed  their  red-eyed  brothers  of  the  placer  pans ;  and 
cowpunchers  in  holiday  regalia  of  recently  combed  an- 
gora chaps,  gaudy  'kerchiefs  and  carved-leather  cuffs, 
sneered  in  passing  at  the  ragged,  shrinking  sheepmen 
from  the  hill  country  to  the  east.  And  above  all  other 
sounds  rose  the  tinkle  of  glass  on  glass  and  the  whir  and 
rattle  of  the  roulette  wheels  as  the  little  ivory  balls  leaped 
the  metal  hurdles  in  their  pits. 

As  always,  the  crowd  was  greatest  in  the  "  Monte." 
Behind  the  long  bar,  Fernandez  and  two  "  extras,"  their 
coats  off  and  their  shirt  sleeves  rolled  to  their  elbows, 
struggled  to  serve  the  row  of  clamorous  customers  that 
faced  them.  The  necks  of  a  score  of  squat  black  bottles 
clinked  against  the  rims  of  twice  as  many  glasses  as  un- 
steady hands  were  laid  upon  them.  The  oboe  note  in  this 
symphony  was  afforded  by  the  whir  of  the  slot  machines. 
Now  and  again  the  coins  would  jangle  in  a  gusty  down- 
pour into  the  cups,  and  the  lucky  man  would  curse  softly 
to  himself  as  he  scooped  them  up. 

At  one  end  of  the  faro  table  down  the  room,  his  back 
to  the  wall,  sat  a  Chinaman  chewing  a  root  of  licorice 
and  fingering  his  chips  as  he  watched,  uttering  no  sound. 
Opposite  him  lolled  a  giant  negro  borax  digger,  coatless, 

252 


The  "Monte" 

his  blue-flannel  shirt,  open  almost  to  the  waist,  reveal- 
ing his  astonishing  breast  which  gleamed  like  burnished 
ebony  in  the  yellow  rays  of  the  huge,  metal  oil  lamp  de- 
pendant from  the  ceiling.  On  either  side  of  the  case- 
keeper — a  blue-eyed  youth  in  laced  boots  and  stained 
khaki  breeches — sat  silently  a  little  row  of  players,  each 
intent  upon  his  own  markers  save  when  now  and  then 
they  glanced  at  the  frame  in  front  of  the  blue-eyed  boy 
on  which  he  shifted  the  little  beads  as  card  after  card 
was  drawn  from  the  metal  box  by  the  man  opposite,  who 
with  a  face  like  a  priest,  save  for  the  cold  cigar  between 
his  teeth,  dealt  the  game  as  if  he  were  offering  silent 
prayer.  Behind,  on  his  bootblack's  throne,  perched  the 
lookout,  guardian  angel  of  the  sport,  a  little  man  with  a 
thin  and  drooping  mustache  and  eyes  that  glittered  in  the 
lamplight  like  tiny  turquoise  beads. 

At  the  end  of  the  bar  two  stud-poker  games  were  in 
progress,  and  near  the  door,  his  back  to  the  wall,  stood 
the  man  from  San  Luis,  Skinny's  successor  at  the  wheel. 

They  were  shuffling  the  cards  at  the  stud-poker  table, 
the  faro  dealer's  box  was  empty,  and  the  little  ball  had 
jiggled  into  a  cup  at  the  pit  of  the  whirling  saucer,  when, 
amid  the  angry  curses  of  those  who  had  guessed  wrong 
and  the  gentler  curses  of  those  who  had  guessed  right, 
Lacy  entered  and  deposited  his  case  at  the  end  of  the  bar 
at  the  same  instant  that  McGregor  pushed  his  way 
through  the  crowd  from  the  rear. 

The  latter  was  dressed  in  the  clothes  that  for  four 
years  he  had  feelingly  referred  to  as  his  "  glad  rags." 
His  tan  shoes  were  woefully  "  run  over,"  his  gray 

253 


Sadie 

breeches,  from  long  concealment  at  the  bottom  of  his 
trunk,  were  wrinkled  and  creased,  as  was  his  baggy,  bob- 
tailed  coat.  His  derby  hat  was  of  an  ancient  block  and 
his  calico  shirt  was  covered  with  little  pink  jockey  caps 
and  horseshoes  pierced  with  whips.  Over  his  breast 
floated  a  pale  blue  scarf,  the  knot  more  than  half  hidden 
by  a  gigantic  opal  pin. 

On  either  cheek  there  burned  a  splotch  of  carmine 
and  his  eyes  glowed  like  embers.  More  than  half  drunk 
with  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  combined  with  the 
whisky  upon  which  he  was  now  living,  he  staggered  and 
waved  his  arms. 

Behind  the  bar  Fernandez  saw  him  and  shouted  a 
warning. 

The  little  gambler's  lips  curled  in  a  sneer. 

"Aw,  close  yer  trap ! "  he  cried,  "  it's  my  game  t'- 
night !  " 

With  his  eyes  glinting  sparks  the  Mexican  sprang 
around  the  end  of  the  bar  and  seized  him  by  one  arm. 

"  You  crazee !  "  he  cried,  but  McGregor  jerked  away. 

"  Tell  that  mutt  to  pull  freight !  "  he  ordered. 

"  You'  drunk !  "  Fernandez  piped. 

"  What  th'  hell's  that  to  you  ?  "  he  screamed.  "  Leave 
it  to  the  boys  then !  "  He  waved  his  arms  aloft  and 
yelled:  "Boys!  Listen!  Boys!" 

At  the  shrill  command  every  drinker  at  the  bar  turned, 
and  the  players  at  the  faro  and  poker  tables  forgot  even 
their  markers.  In  the  excitement  the  placid  Chinaman, 
unobserved  by  the  lookout  and  the  craning  dealer,  cop- 
pered four.  Every  eye  in  the  room  was  turned  upon  the 

254 


The  " Monte" 


gaudy  little  figure  by  the  door,  and  a  silence,  breathless 
with  suspense,  fell  upon  the  throng.  It  was  as  if  every 
man  in  the  room  felt  the  moment  to  be  fraught  with 
drama.  Then,  as  the  words  came,  hands  that  instinc- 
tively had  gone  to  hips,  froze  there,  rigid. 

"  Boys  " — the  burning  eyes  swept  the  close  crescent  of 
faces  in  front  of  him — "  Boys,  I  quit  workin'  for  the 
'  Monte '  the  other  day  'cause — 'cause  I'm  goin'  t'  die."  He 
paused.  "  You  all  know  me — I'm  Skinny  McGregor — 
I've  taken  your  money — I've  paid  you  money — and  I 
want  to  do  it — jus'  once  more  " — A  spasm  of  cough- 
ing seized  him  that  racked  his  little  body  from  his  feet 
to  his  head.  "  I  never  thought  I'd  work  that  old  wheel 
again,"  the  voice  went  on  raspingly,  "  but  I  want  to — 
boys — jus'  once — t'night.  Tell  Jose  you  want  me  to, 
won't  you,  boys  ?  "  he  pleaded.  "  Jus'  this  once  ?  To- 
night! Only  once  more — 'n'  then  I'll  lay  down " 

He  held  out  his  hands,  tottered,  and  would  have 
fallen,  had  not  Fernandez  caught  him. 

Ensued  an  instant  of  ominous  stillness,  and  then,  at 
the  back  of  the  crowd,  some  one  cried,  "  Let  him  take  the 
wheel!" 

The  command  was  taken  up  by  another  and  another, 
until  the  long,  low-ceiled  room  rang  with  it :  "  Give  him 
the  wheel !  "  "  Let  'im  have  it !  "  "  What's  the  matter 
wi'  Skinny !  "  "  Make  'way  f er  th'  kid !  " 

In  the  face  of  all  this  Fernandez  dared  not  refuse. 
He  grinned,  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  elbowed  away. 
The  man  from  San  Luis  sourly  withdrew. 

McGregor  staggered  forward.  Behind  the  wheel,  at 
255 


Sadie 

his  old  station  once  more,  he  turned  and  smiled  into  the 
rough  faces  before  him  and  they  smiled  back.  Caress- 
ingly he  ran  his  fingers  over  the  rim  of  the  device,  then, 
with  one  hand  clutching  his  breast,  the  old  warning 
leaped  from  his  lips : 

"  Come  on,  gents !  She's  going  to  roll !  Make  your 
bets  !  Money  down,  gents,  and  hands  up !  She  rolls !  " 

Every  other  game  in  the  room  was  deserted.  Even 
the  lookout,  his  eagle  services  no  longer  required,  dropped 
from  his  perch.  Only  the  master  of  the  little  metal 
box  remained  unmoved,  and,  laying  aside  his  cold  cigar 
proceeded  to  shuffle  the  deck  for  a  game  of  seven-card 
solitaire.  Every  other  man  in  the  crowd,  even  the 
drinkers  at  the  bar,  had  pressed  about  the  wheel  until 
Lacy,  in  the  foremost  row,  was  compelled  to  brace  him- 
self to  keep  from  being  borne  headlong  across  the  board. 

"Again  she  rolls,  gents ! "  piped  the  shrill  staccato  of 
the  little  figure  leaning  against  the  wall.  "  Make  your 
bets !  Money  down,  gents,  and  hands  up !  She  rolls !  " 

At  that  instant  Sadie  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

Through  the  angle  of  the  big  negro's  crooked  arm 
Skinny  saw  her,  and  for  her  sole  benefit  he  cried,  his 
voice  clear  above  the  whir  of  the  spinning  wheel : 

"  It's  only  to-night,  gents !  Jus'  t'night !  The  last 
time !  "  The  ball  rattled  into  a  cup.  "  Double  O  wins. 
Double  O  she  is.  The  house  cops  the  coin,  gents !  " 

Scarcely  conscious  that  she  breathed,  Sadie  pressed 
forward.  The  big  negro  felt  a  hand  on  his  arm  and, 
looking  down  into  her  face,  grinned  and  moved  his  huge 
bulk  to  one  side  that  she  might  have  room.  She  saw 

256 


The  "Monte" 


Lacy.  An  instant  their  eyes  met  and  only  Skinny  Mc- 
Gregor perceived  the  flash  that  passed  between  them. 
Then  the  thin  voice  rose  again  shriller  than  before : 

"  She's  goin'  to  roll,  gents !  Make  your  bets  !  Money 
down  and  hands  up !  She  rolls !  " 

Lacy  had  played  for  the  first  time. 

Sadie  held  her  breath.  And  yet,  she  told  herself,  it 
was  just  as  well  perhaps.  She  would  claim  her  privilege 
of  spinning  the  wheel  after  he  had  lost  the  first  whirl. 
Under  her  eyes  the  device  was  merely  three,  thin,  hori- 
zontal stripes  of  color,  above  which  McGregor  bent,  his 
hands  resting  lightly  on  the  stationary  rim.  Slower  and 
slower  became  the  revolutions  of  the  delicately  balanced 
saucer,  more  and  more  distinct  grew  the  stripes.  Over 
the  metal  hurdles  bounded  the  little  sphere,  then  settled 
into  a  cup  and  nestled  there. 

"  Red  wins,  gents !  "  she  heard  a  voice  cry — a  voice 
that  sounded  a  long  way  off — "  seventeen  on  the  red !  " 

Lacy  had  won  and  she  had  seen  the  trick.  The  wheel 
was  spinning  again  and  Lacy  had  played  a  second  time. 
She  saw  the  faces  about  her  as  in  a  mist.  Again  the 
little  ball  nestled  in  the  cup  at  the  bottom  of  the  wheel. 

"Again  the  red  wins !  "  McGregor  cried ;  "  seventeen 
on  the  red  a  second  time " 

She  saw  Lacy  receive  the  redeemable  chips  in  his  hands 
— and  nothing  else.  Her  appearance  in  the  "  Monte  " 
had  occasioned  no  surprise,  nor  did  her  withdrawal.  Once 
outside  it  seemed  to  her  that  more  strength  than  she  now 
possessed  would  be  required  to  cross  Main  Street.  In  the 
shadow  of  the  new  Palace's  porch  she  sank  upon  her 

257 


Sadie 

knees  and,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  fell  to  sob- 
bing. What  did  it  all  mean?  It  couldn't  be  luck,  just 
blind  luck — for  she  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes — with  her 
own  eyes  she  had  seen  Skinny  spring  the  wheel ! 

Off  in  the  east  Number  8  whistled.  She  rose,  and  as 
she  did  so  a  figure,  carrying  a  case,  ran  past  her. 

Leaning  forward :     "  Jim !  "  she  called  low,  "  Jim !  " 

Lacy  stopped  and  looked  about  him. 

"  Here,"  she  called  again,  and  in  the  shadow  of  the 
porch  he  joined  her. 

"  You  must  hurry,  Jim,"  she  ran  on.  "  There's  a 
transport  sailing  from  'Frisco  on  Thursday  for  the  Philip- 
pines— I  read  about  it  in  the  paper — take  it — enlist,  Jim — 
if  they'll  let  you — anything — for  God's  sake — no,  keep 
the  money — I  can't  kiss  you,  Jim — go — Jim — go — there's 
the  train — go !  " 

He  ran  then,  out  of  the  shadow,  into  the  half  light 
of  the  street,  and  until  the  long  overland  train  pulled  out, 
the  curtained  windows  of  the  Pullmans  reflecting  the 
twinkling  lights  of  Main  Street,  she  stood  there,  leaning 
against  a  pillar  of  the  porch,  wondering. 

It  was  all  like  a  dream,  as  unreasonable  and  as  de- 
tached. Lacy  had  come — and  gone.  It  was  if  he  had  not 
come  at  all.  Even  his  confession — the  confession  he  had 
made  under  the  stars,  to  her,  alone — was  unreal.  Every- 
thing was  unreal,  as  unreal  as  the  desert  out  yonder.  And 
yet — McGregor — 

Slowly  she  picked  her  way  across  Main  Street.  Was 
it  all  over?  What,  then,  of  McGregor?  What  did  he 
know? 

258 


The  "Monte" 

Through  the  open  door  of  the  eating  house,  as  she 
approached,  she  saw  Billy.  He  sat  with  his  chair  tilted 
back  against  the  wall  and  his  feet  on  the  cleared  table, 
reading.  Sadie  stopped,  and  smiled.  How  good  to  her 
Billy  had  been — how  good.  Her  breath  caught  in  her 
throat.  Billy  must  never  know.  Dear,  dear  Billy! 

In  the  stillness  she  heard  a  light  footfall  on  the  cin- 
ders, and  turned.  Around  the  end  of  the  station  staggered 
Skinny  McGregor,  who,  as  he  perceived  her,  came  hurry- 
ing forward,  his  arms  outheld. 

"  Sadie !  Sadie !  "  he  gasped,  and  collapsed  at  her  feet. 
And  even  in  the  deep  shadow  that  enveloped  them  she 
saw  that  the  whole  front  of  his  jockey  shirt  was  crimson 
stained. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE   PASSING   OF   SKINNY 

THE  others  had  gone ;  Sadie  was  alone  with  Skinny 
in  the  tent.  He  lay  on  the  cot  as  he  had  lain  all 
day.  Beside  him,  on  a  little  packing  box,  were  the  dishes 
Mrs.  Fernandez  had  brought  over  in  the  mid-afternoon. 
Presently  it  would  be  necessary  to  light  the  lantern ;  even 
now  the  night  breeze  was  rising,  stirring  the  flaps  at  the 
entrance. 

Sadie  drew  the  steamer  chair  nearer  the  cot. 

"  Don't  you  s'pose  maybe  you'd  sleep  a  little  if  I 
should  go  out  and  leave  you  alone?  "  she  asked. 

A  faint  smile  flickered  into  his  eyes  and  curled  the 
corners  of  his  thin  lips  as  he  moved  his  head  from  side 
to  side  on  the  pillow. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  "  I'll  stay,  then." 

Till  now  she  had  not  been  alone  with  him  since  last 
night.  All  day  his  simple  wants  had  been  ministered  to 
by  Billy  Thompson  and  Rowley,  while  Sansome,  who  pos- 
sessed a  certain  crude  knowledge  of  the  requirements  in 
such  cases,  had  acted  as  physician  in  charge.  Twice 
Sadie  had  been  on  the  verge  of  speaking  of  the  part  the 
little  gambler  had  played  in  the  episode  of  last  night,  but 
had  restrained  herself.  If  Skinny  had  acted  voluntarily 
she  felt  sure  he  would  tell  her;  if  he  had  not,  then  the 

260 


The  Passing  of  Skinny 


whole  thing  had  been  but  a  whim  of  Chance,  that  en- 
meshing Chance  in  whose  coils  she  had  struggled  all  her 
life. 

"  Shall  I  light  the  lantern  ? "  she  presently  asked. 
Night  was  gathering  round  ;»the  corners  of  the  tent,  even 
now,  were  in  shadow. 

"  No,"  he  whispered,  "  there'll  be — time  enough  for 
that" 

She  inclined  her  head. 

"  There's  somethin',  Sadie,"  he  went  on  after  a 
moment,  "  that  I've  been  wantin'  to  tell  you  all  day,  but 
there  ain't  been  a  chance  till  now.  It's  'bout  last  night. 
I  was  afraid  you'd  worry,  an'  you  needn't." 

"  I  just  wondered — Skinny — that's  all,"  she  replied 
hesitatingly,  with  a  little  catch  of  her  breath. 

"  You  see  I  heard  what  you  said  to  him — out  there — 
by  the  tank — and  what  he  said  to  you — and " 

"And  so  you  did  it  all  yourself  instead  of  letting  me," 
she  murmured.  That  he  had  heard  did  not  matter  now. 
Sliding  from  the  chair,  she  sank  upon  her  knees  and 
pressed  her  cheek  against  his  cold  hand. 

"  Dear — dear — Skinny,"  she  whispered. 

His  eager  ears  caught  the  word  and  he  raised  himself 
on  one  elbow. 

"  You  callin'  me  that — Sadie  ?  Gawd !  "  he  breathed 
reverently.  "  There  ain't  anybody  ever  called  me  that 
before  in  all  my  life !  " 

A  little  cooing  sound  issued  from  her  throat  as  she 
replied : 

"  But  you'll  always  be  that  to  me — Skinny " 

261 


Sadie 

Her  head  was  bowed  so  she  could  not  see  that  he  had 
closed  his  eyes,  nor  the  smile  that  gave  to  his  mouth  so 
singular  a  sweetness. 

"  That's  pay  enough — more'n  enough,"  he  murmured. 

A  moment  he  hesitated,  then  went  slowly  on : 

"  For  a  long  time  I've  been  wantin'  to  do  something 
for  you — or  Billy — or  mos'  anybody — just  to  show  I 
wasn't  a  toad,  layin'  in  the  sun,  after  all;  then  you 
gimme  the  chance.  Besides  you  wouldn't  have  skinned 
Jose " 

She  raised  her  eyes  at  this  and  drew  back  wonderingly. 

"  It  wouldn't  have  been  right,  you  know,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  It'd  'a'  been  like  touchin'  his  till,  behind  the 
bar." 

"  O  Skinny,"  she  gasped  fearfully,  "  I  never  thought 
of  that!" 

"  Of  course  you  didn't  ?  Don't  you  s'pose  I  knew 
that?"  He  chuckled.  "But  that's  what  it  would  'a' 
been — just  the  same — two  hundred  and  thirty-five 
dollars " 

On  his  hand  he  felt  the  wet  warmth  of  a  tear. 

"  There,  there,"  he  ran  on  pitifully,  "  don't  you  worry 
'bout  it.  It  was  all  fixed — this  afternoon " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  The  question  sprang  un- 
bidden from  her  lips. 

"  I  fixed  it — I  gave  it  to  Jose — don't  you  worry. 
What  would  I  do  with  m'  money?  I  can't  take  it  with 
me,  can  I?  Don't  look  at  me  so  funny,  Sadie — I've  got 
some — it  ain't  taken  all  I  could  rake  in  to  keep  me — like 
this."  With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  indicated  his  imme- 

262 


The  Passing  of  Skinny 


diate  environment.  "  I've  salted  all  I  could — over'n 
Jose's  safe.  I  asked  him  to  bring  me  the  box — 'n'  I  paid 
him.  It  don't  make  any  difference  what  I  tol'  him.  He 
thinks  he  understands.  I  just  wanted  you  to  know  it 
was  fixed,  so's  you  wouldn't  worry." 

Sadie  dared  not  let  her  eyes  meet  his  just  then,  and 
rising,  went  to  the  entrance  of  the  tent  and  stood  there, 
silently  looking  out.  What  could  she  say?  she  asked 
herself ;  what  could  she  do  ? 

Presently  she  came  back  to  where  he  lay  watching  her, 
and  looking  down  into  his  glowing  eyes,  said : 

"  Skinny,  you  hadn't  ought  to  have  done  it ;  you  ought 
to  have  let  me  paddle  my  own  canoe." 

"  That's  all  right,"  was  his  reply,  "  only  you  were 
getting  into  the  rapids — and — if  somebody  hadn't  helped 
you,  maybe  you'd  'a'  upset." 

In  his  heart  he  was  abundantly  glad  that  she  had  not 
thanked  him.  He  had  feared  her  thanks,  little  realizing 
that  some  subtle  instinct  had  given  her  to  feel  how  futile 
thanks  would  be — now. 

"  Dear — dear,"  she  murmured  softly. 

Impulsively  he  raised  himself,  and  catching  her  hand 
kissed  it  again  and  again. 

"  Sit  down — won't  you  ?  "  he  pleaded.  "  I  got  the 
rest — here,"  he  added  as  she  dropped  into  the  steamer 
chair  beside  him. 

From  under  his  pillow  he  drew  out  a  narrow,  flat 
package  wrapped  in  the  glaring  comic  supplement  of  an 
old  newspaper.     He  sat  up  and  with  trembling  fingers 
opened  it.     Sadie  leaned  forward. 
18  263 


Sadie 

"  That's  m'  Bible,"  the  thin  voice  ran  on.  "  'Member 
I  told  you  m'  mother  gave  it  to  me  when  I  came  out  here 
— with  Jim.  See — that's  where  she  wrote  m'  name — 
'Sam'— see?" 

Sadie  nodded. 

"  'N'  here's  m'  money."  From  the  long,  unsealed 
envelope  that  had  lain  upon  the  Bible  he  drew  out  a  thin 
pack  of  bills. 

"  Count  'em,"  he  said,  reaching  out  his  hand.  "  I 
guess  there's  a  hundred  and  twenty-one." 

She  was  glad  for  the  little  task,  glad  for  the  oppor- 
tunity to  take  her  eyes  from  his. 

"  More'n  that !  "  she  cried  quite  gayly,  when  she  had 
run  them  through.  "  There's  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
three." 

"Is  there?"  His  face  lighted.  "Good!  Now 
listen,  Sadie,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want  you  to  do — 
if  you  will " 

He  fell  back  upon  the  pillow  again,  clutching  in  one 
hand  an  unopened  envelope  that  had  formed  part  of  his 
treasure. 

" When  it's  all  over  I  want  you  to  pay  what  it 

costs — out  of  that — there.  You  keep  it — it  won't  cost 
much — there'll  be  some  left.  Get  things  just  as  cheap  as 
you  can — and — and  I  want  you  to  keep  the  rest " 

"  O  Skinny — I  can't,"  Sadie  murmured  brokenly. 

"  Yes  you  can,"  he  insisted,  "  'cause  there  ain't  any- 
body else  to  have  it — you've  got  to — and  whatever's  left 
I  want  you  to  keep  till  you  get  married — don't  look  away 
like  that — 'cause  you're  goin'  to  be — some  day.  'N'  then 

264 


The  Passing  of  Skinny 


I  want  you  to  get  yourself  something — something  that 
won't  get  broken — nor  wear  out  very  quick — something 
you  can  keep  a  long,  long  time.  Mebbe  you'll  put  it  on 
the  what-not — everybody'll  give  you  something — and 
when  folks  see  it  they'll  say,  '  Where'd  you  get  that  ? ' 
an'  you'll  say,  '  That  ?  Oh,  Skinny  McGregor  gimme 
that  for  a  wedding  present ' — Won't  you  do  it,  Sadie — 
please?  " 

Her  gentle  fingers  brushed  the  hair  back  from  his 
forehead. 

"And  I'll  think  more  of  it  than  all  the  rest  put  to- 
gether," she  promised  brokenly. 

In  his  eyes  glowed  the  fires  of  his  great  love,  nor  had 
she  the  will  then,  nor,  perhaps,  even  the  desire  to  escape 
them. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  ask  you  something — Sadie  " — he  went 
on,  after  a  moment. 

She  leaned  closer. 

"  If  I  was  all  right — if  I  wasn't  all  shot  to  pieces,  but 
was  whole — like — like  Billy  Thompson,  say — and  you 
knew  me  like  you  do — and  I  was  just  what  I  am — I 
mean  workin'  in  the  '  Monte '  and  all  that — and  should 
come  to  you — mebbe  we'd  be  ridin'  over  there  by  the 
mesa — and  I  should  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you — what 
would  you  say — Sadie  ?  What  would  you  say  ?  " 

He  had  raised  himself  again  on  one  elbow.  Sadie 
did  not  hesitate.  Impulsively  she  dropped  upon  her 
knees,  and  slipping  one  arm  under  his  neck,  whispered: 

"  I'd  be  so  glad,  Skinny ;  oh,  I'd  be  so  glad !  " 

"  Sadie,"  he  murmured  as  he  sank  back,  "  Sadie !  " 
265 


Sadie 

The  little  envelope  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  and  leaning 
forward  she  recovered  it. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

He  tore  the  flap  and  drawing  out  the  contents  held 
it  up. 

"  See,"  he  said. 

It  was  a  little  scapular,  frayed  and  stained. 

Something  clutched  at  the  girl's  heart  as  her  eyes 
rested  upon  it,  and  reaching  out  she  took  it  from  him. 

"  Can  you  sit  up  again?  "  she  asked,  and  with  an  effort 
he  raised  himself,  facing  her.  His  shirt,  open  at  the  throat, 
disclosed  his  thin  and  wasted  neck.  Leaning  forward,  an 
end  of  the  woolen  string  in  either  hand,  she  met  them 
behind  and  tied  them  there.  Then  she  pressed  one  of 
the  little  pictured  squares  of  cloth  against  his  breast  and 
over  it  buttoned  the  collar  of  his  shirt.  Their  eyes  met 
and  each  in  the  other's  saw  the  Light  that  shines  on  land 
and  sea.  Then,  involuntarily  almost,  it  seemed,  the  thin 
hand  lifted  and  upon  his  breast — as  he  had  not  done  for 
years —  he  pointed  the  Symbol,  and  fell  back  upon  his 
pillow  with  a  sigh. 

Sadie  rose  and  lighted  the  lantern.  As  she  set  it 
among  the  dishes  on  the  box  at  the  head  of  the  cot,  she 
heard  the  crunch  of  a  heel  outside  and  turned  as  Rowley 
appeared  between  the  flaps  of  the  tent. 

"  Thought  mebbe  you  was  alone,"  he  said. 

"  I  was  just  going,"  Sadie  replied,  "  just  as  you  came." 
She  looked  down.  "  Is  there  anything  else  ?  "  she  asked. 
McGregor  shook  his  head.  Never  could  she  forget  his 
eyes  as  they  looked  up  at  her  then.  She  let  the  tips  of 

266 


The  Passing  of  Skinny 


her  fingers  rest  an  instant  on  his  forehead.  "  Good- 
night," she  whispered,  "  good-night." 

Ten  minutes  later  as  Billy  Thompson  came  around  the 
end  of  the  station  Sadie  rode  swiftly  past  to  the  South. 

He  called  her  name  but  she  gave  no  sign  that  she  had 
heard  him. 

"  Where  in  the  devil's  she  going  this  time  of  night?  " 
he  muttered,  but  the  stars,  dripping  their  frost  light  from 
the  purple  sky,  were  silent. 

At  midnight  the  glow  of  the  lantern  still  shone  out 
upon  the  sand  through  the  walls  of  the  tent.  Within, 
Mrs.  Fernandez  and  Rowley,  and  Billy  Thompson,  and 
Sansome — waited.  The  ticking  of  the  nickel  alarm  clock 
on  the  shoe-case  cupboard  in  one  corner  was  the  only 
sound.  For  a  little  while  McGregor  had  slept  fitfully, 
half  waking  now  and  then  with  little  starts.  Sansome 
watched  closely ;  of  them  all,  he  had  had  some  slight  ex- 
perience and  realized  that  the  moment  of  passing  was  not 
far  distant.  Billy  had  sought  to  learn  where  Sadie  had 
gone — the  dying  boy  had  murmured  her  name  in  his  sleep 
— but  no  one  knew.  The  hands  of  the  little  alarm  clock 
indicated  half  past  two,  when  suddenly  Skinny  awak- 
ened and  made  a  weak  effort  to  sit  up.  Mrs.  Fernandez 
supported  him ;  Sansome  bent  closer. 

"  Much  obliged,  missus,"  the  thin  voice  whispered. 
He  had  always  called  the  Mexican  woman  that. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "  it's  the  last  card 
in  the  box.  Make  your  bets." 

Billy  Thompson  turned  away. 
267 


Sadie 

"  You  know,"  the  voice  went  on,  "  it  ain't  so  bad, 
after  all.  ...  It  don't  hurt — nor  nothin'.  .  .  .  You  just 
feel  lazy  like — and  good.  .  .  .  You  kind  o'  want  to  go — 
too.  .  .  .  It's  like  you  was  walkin'  along  a  high,  board 
fence.  .  .  .  You  can  hear  the  birds  singin' — in  there.  .  . 
and  smell  the  flowers.  .  .  .  And  you're  lookin'  for  the 
gate — everywhere.  .  .  .  You  want  to  see  what's  it's  like 
— on  the  other  side  o'  the  fence.  .  .  .  On  the  level.  .  .  . 
That's  what  it's  like,  boys.  .  .  .  Just  like  that."  .  .  . 

His  head  fell  back  on  the  pillow  and  he  closed  his 
eyes.  .  .  . 

After  a  long  time  he  began  to  sing  waveringly : 

"  Oh,  there  was  an  old  hen, 

And  she  had  a  wooden  foot, 
She  built  herself  a  nest 

In  a  mulberry  root. 
Oh,  she  put  on  a  feather 

To  keep  herself  warm, 
And  another  little  drink 

Wouldn't  do  us  any  harm." 

"  M'  father  used  to  sing  that,"  he  murmured,  "  just 
for  a  kid.  .  .  .  I'm  goin'  out  in  the  desert,  boys — all 
alone.  .  .  .  T  won't  be  cold  'n'  't  won't  be  hot.  .  .  .  Just 
right.  .  .  .  Listen!"  .  .  . 

From  the  distance  came  the  sound  of  galloping  hoofs. 

McGregor  leaned  forward  on  his  arm. 

"  Who's  that?  "  he  called,  his  voice  strangely  clear. 

Billy  Thompson  snatched  the  flaps  apart  and  peered 
out.  In  Main  Street  two  riders  were  swiftly  approach- 
ing. Another  instant  and  Sadie  galloped  up  to  the  tent 

268 


The  Passing  of  Skinny 


with  the  padre  from  San  Luis,  twelve  miles  away.  Then 
Billy  knew.  The  priest,  carrying  a  little  bundle,  entered 
the  tent;  the  others  came  out,  leaving  him  alone  with  a 
soul.  .  .  . 

Dawn,  like  a  strip  of  steel-gray  ribbon,  stretched 
along  the  eastern  sky  as  he  issued  from  the  tent  and 
beckoned  to  Sadie.  .  .  . 

The  ghost  of  a  voice  spoke  to  her  as  she  sank  upon  her 
knees  beside  the  cot. 

"  Good-by — Sadie,"  it  whispered,  "  good-by,"  and  he 
smiled. 

As  she  had  before,  now  again  she  slipped  an  arm 
under  his  neck  and  holding  him  close,  as  she  might  a 
child,  murmured,  "  Dear — dear  " — and  kissed  him  on  the 
brow.  .  .  .  And  it  was  the  touch  of  her  lips,  the  light 
in  her  eyes,  the  sound  of  her  voice,  that  he  took  with  him 
out  into  the  desert  on  the  Long  Trail. 

The  whole  eastern  sky  was  aflame ;  on  the  distant 
peak  of  Bill  Phillips's  mountain  the  sun  balanced,  con- 
verting the  sand  sweep  into  a  shimmering  sea  of  gold  as 
Sadie  appeared  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  Billy  Thomp- 
son started  forward,  but  stopped.  Reaching  up  the  girl 
pulled  at  the  twine  halyard  of  the  little  flag,  and  as  she 
did  so  the  last  breath  of  the  night  breeze  caught  the 
square  of  silk,  caressed  it  an  instant,  then  floated  it  out 
at  half  mast. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

A   DEBUT   IS   PLANNED 

IN  a  little  patch  of  sand  which  Father  Francis  had  con- 
secrated behind  the  new  hotel  they  buried  Skinny 
as  the  shadows  lengthened  and  the  last  light  of  the  pass- 
ing day  turned  to  amethyst  the  rim  of  the  distant  mesa. 
Billy  falteringly  read  the  service  from  the  little  book  the 
dead  boy  had  treasured  for  so  long,  and  afterwards  San- 
some  played  "  Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep  "  on  his 
concertina.  Apart  from  the  others  stood  Sadie  and  Mrs. 
Fernandez,  the  latter  weeping  softly,  while  still  farther 
away  clustered  little  groups  of  strangers  of  whom  there 
were  many  in  Bagdad  now,  reverent  witnesses  of  the 
primitive  ceremony. 

"  It's  jes'  like  he  was  one  of  m'  own,"  Mrs.  Fer- 
nandez whispered,  but  Sadie  made  no  reply.  Rowley, 
whom  she  had  told  of  McGregor's  wishes  and  who  had 
eagerly  begged  the  privilege  of  executing  them  for  her, 
even  to  the  extent  of  driving  down  to  San  Luis  for  the 
burial  box,  glanced  at  her  and  tried  to  smile,  but  it  was 
a  feeble  effort. 

Afterwards,  Billy  and  Sadie  walked  over  to  the 
Palace  together  and  sat  on  the  porch  until  the  stars 
came  out. 

All  day  long,  in  anticipation  of  this  hour,  he  had 
270 


A  Debut  is  Planned 


gone  over  in  his  mind  the  things  that  he  would  say  to 
her  to-night;  but  now,  alone  with  her,  something  re- 
strained him,  some  subtle  influence  of  the  evening  that  he 
could  feel  but  not  identify. 

"  It  won't  be  quite  the  same  any  more,  will  it  ?  "  Sadie 
said,  as  if  to  herself,  after  a  period  of  silence. 

Billy  did  not  reply  and  she  went  on: 

"  It's  the  way,  though,  I  guess.  Sometimes,  Billy, 
when  I've  been  sitting  in  my  room,  all  alone  in  the  even- 
ing, looking  at  the  sand  out  yonder,  like  snow  in  the  star- 
light, it's  seemed  to  me  the  desert's  a  heap  sight  more  like 
life,  after  all,  than  the  big  crowded  places  back  East  are. 
Kind  of  a  dopey  idea,  ain't  it?  But  life's  barren,  too, 
Billy,  when  all's  said  and  done,  and  sometimes,  when 
you're  blue  and  everything's  on  the  bum,  you  get  to  won- 
dering what's  the  use,  don't  you  ?  But  the  wheel's  going 
to  turn  over  at  the  '  Monte '  just  the  same,  even  if  little 
Skinny  is  sleeping  out  there." 

She  told  him,  then,  the  episode  of  the  scapular,  and 
something  of  the  story  of  McGregor's  life  as  he  had  told 
it  to  her,  and  how  he  had  given  her  his  few  belongings. 
"  I  suppose,  Billy,"  she  concluded,  "  if  he'd  told  it  all  to 
a  lot  of  the  high  foreheads  back  East,  or  anywhere  else, 
his  life  wouldn't  mean  a  bloomin'  thing.  But  it's  meant 
something  to  me,  Billy — a  whole  lot." 

"  It's  only  what  you  make  it,"  he  replied,  "  just  that 
— nothing  else.  It's  never  seemed  to  me  that  folks  are 
really  forgotten  either — ever.  And  if  you're  decent  and 
on  the  level,  and  have  never  dealt  from  a  shaved  deck, 
God  ain't  got  any  kick  comin',  I  guess.  I  never  doped 

271 


Sadie 

it  out  the  glory  shouters  have  much  to  do  with  it,  when 
all's  said  and  done.  Look  at  Skinny.  Nobody  ever 
heard  him  sobbin'  round  'bout  his  troubles,  and  the  Lord 
knows  he  had  enough — so  many  he  couldn't  count  'em, 
from  what  you've  said.  And  as  for  being  on  the  level, 
I'll  take  a  shot,  at  ten  to  one,  he  never  worked  that  bum 
wheel  crooked  in  his  life,  for  all  he  could  have,  easy,  if 
he'd  wanted  to.  He  just  couldn't  do  it;  that's  all.  It 
wasn't  in  him." 

Sadie  turned  her  face  away  and  let  fall  her  eyes. 

Presently  Billy  arose. 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  be  toddlin'  back,"  he  said. 
"  We've  got  a  lot  to  do  to-morrow.  The  railroad  gang'll 
be  here  by  night.  Al  'phoned  he  was  coming  over ;  we'll 
open  Saturday,  sure." 

"  What  have  you  heard  from  the  office  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Stevens  comes  on  Number  6  to-morrow ;  Hutchin- 
son's  with  him." 

"  Then  I'll  write  Frances  to-night,"  Sadie  said.  "  She 
probably  won't  be  able  to  get  here  for  the  opening,  but 
that  don't  make  any  difference ;  there'll  be  enough  to  do 
afterwards." 

As  they  approached  the  station  Robinson  came  out  of 
his  little  office  with  a  telegram  for  Sadie  that  had  only 
that  moment  been  received.  Given  by  some  subtle  in- 
stinct to  know  the  nature  of  the  message,  she  tore  off 
the  wrapper  deliberately,  read  the  few  words  at  a  glance, 
and  crushed  the  sheet  into  a  ball  in  her  hand. 

In  the  kitchen,  beyond,  the  cook  was  singing  as  they 
entered  the  lunch  room.  He  had  lighted  the  lamp  over 

272 


A  Debut  is  Planned 


the  counter,  and  the  little  door  beneath  the  stairs  stood 
ajar. 

Sadie  turned  and  held  out  her  hand  to  Billy. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said,  and  smiled.  As  she  gathered 
up  her  skirts  the  little  yellow  wad  of  paper  fell  to  the 
floor.  The  door  above  clicked  shut  behind  her.  Stoop- 
ing, Billy  recovered  the  telegram.  Mechanically  his 
fingers  smoothed  it,  the  while  he  continued  musingly  to 
gaze  out  the  glistening  window  across  the  room,  into  the 
night.  Then — "  Maybe  she  wouldn't  want  me  to,"  he 
muttered,  and  so  saying  tore  the  wrinkled  yellow  sheet 
into  tiny  bits  which  he  sifted  through  his  fingers  into  the 
waste  basket  at  the  end  of  the  counter.  But  if  he  had 
read  the  message  it  would  have  told  him  nothing : 

"Sail  to-morrow.     Good-by. 

"JIM." 

During  the  days  that  followed,  until  Saturday  night, 
neither  Sadie  nor  Billy  gave  thought  to  anything  beyond 
the  work  in  hand. 

On  the  arrival  of  Stevens  and  Hutchinson,  the  next 
afternoon,  the  eating  house  was  spick  and  span  for  their 
reception,  Billy's  and  Sadie's  personal  belongings  having 
been  transferred  meantime  to  the  Palace.  Tunnison 
brought  with  him  a  twain  of  Mexican  girls,  at  whom 
Sadie  looked  askance,  a  Chinese  cook,  and  Jake,  his  Cot- 
tonwood  bartender. 

"  I've  told  everybody  we'll  throw  her  open  Sat'd'y 
night,"  the  old  man  said,  "  and  I  don't  reckon  it  takes 
news  like  that  any  too  much  time  to  sift  through  a  coun- 

273 


Sadie 

try  like  thisher — only  we've  got  a  lot  to  do.  Allie  told 
me  to  say  to  Miss  Morrison  she'd  come  over  and  lend  a 
hand  if  she  wanted  she  should." 

But  Sadie  didn't. 

Moreover,  Bagdad  itself  was  revealing  signs  of  a  life 
that  a  year  before  not  the  most  optimistic  of  its  inhabi- 
tants would  have  dared  to  prophesy  for  it.  The  cinder 
siding,  from  the  eating  house  to  the  water  tank,  was  piled 
high  with  the  rough  baggage  of  those  whom  the  lure 
of  gold  had  drawn  to  this  barren  spot.  The  one  street 
of  the  town  was  filled  with  men  in  the  colorless  clothes 
of  the  open,  where  before  it  had  been  all  but  deserted. 
The  golden  word  was  on  every  tongue,  the  yellow  lust 
in  every  eye.  Rowley,  boisterously  elate,  was  doing  the 
greatest  business  in  the  history  of  the  Bon  Marche.  San- 
some's  smile  was  indelible,  and  the  owner  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  which  overnight  almost  had  come  to  share  the 
"  Monte's  "  popularity — urged  his  workmen  to  greater 
swiftness  in  the  construction  of  the  long,  low-ceiled  dance 
hall  he  was  building  at  the  rear  of  his  resort.  Every 
train  deposited  in  front  of  the  little  red  station  its  quota 
of  argonauts,  and  added  its  share  to  the  ever-growing 
piles  of  freight  and  baggage  on  the  cinder  siding.  Robin- 
son went  about  haggard  eyed  and  grumbling,  and  Hutch- 
inson  complained  to  his  chief  that  he  could  see  "  the  finish 
of  that  Topeka  vacation,  to  say  nothing  of  the  breach  of 
promise  suit  looming  in  the  dusty  distance."  Each  day 
now  was  as  only  pay  days  had  been  before.  Tents 
dotted  the  sand  in  every  direction,  their  occupants  curs- 
ing the  delay  of  outfits  held  up  in  transit.  Train  after 

274 


A   Debut  is  Planned 


train  of  plodding  burros  wended  their  way  to  the  North, 
their  owners  jeering  at  their  glowering  brethren  left  be- 
hind. Within  two  days,  on  the  strength  of  his  samples 
alone,  Rowley  was  made  four  offers  for  his  distant  claims 
by  the  eager  representatives  of  as  many  newly  formed  and 
loudly  advertised  syndicates.  And  still  the  freight  piled 
up,  and  still  the  dwellers  in  the  mushroom  tents  cursed,  the 
while  they  awaited  the  coming  of  the  new  line,  which  every 
hour  brought  nearer,  as  sweating,  dust-crusted  men  toiled 
frantically,  day  and  night,  to  bring  about  the  miracle. 

That  Friday  evening,  under  the  huge  new  oil  lamp  in 
the  office  of  the  Palace — pungent  with  the  acrid  odor  of 
fresh  paint — sat  Sadie,  and  Billy,  and  Tunnison,  and 
Stevens. 

"  Well,"  observed  the  superintendent,  addressing  no 
one  in  particular,  "  I  guess  you're  going  to  turn  the  trick 
all  right." 

"  It's  shore  the  fittin'  time,"  Tunnison  replied,  shifting 
his  quid,  and  casting  an  admiring  glance  in  Sadie's 
direction. 

"  We've  done  pretty  well  with  the  help  we've  had," 
she  said. 

Stevens  smiled. 

"  I'll  never  forget  the  hit  you  made  that  day  you  came 
to  see  me  back  in  Kansas  City,"  he  recalled. 

A  wave  of  color  swept  into  Sadie's  cheeks. 

Billy  glanced  at  her  and  laughed,  for  Stevens  had  told 
him  all  about  that  first  meeting  and  what  Hutchinson 
had  said. 

275 


Sadie 

"  Ever  regret  coming  ?  "  the  superintendent  pursued. 

Sadie's  eyes  sparkled.  "  Out  here  ? "  she  replied. 
"Regret  it?  Why,  Mr.  Stevens,  I  never  knew  what  it 
was  to  live  before.  I've  never  wished  a  single  time  that 
I  was  back.  I've  only  wished  that  all  the  folks  there 
were  here  instead — not  because  I  miss  'em,  but  for  their 
own  sakes." 

"  I  told  you  Bagdad  was  bound  to  boom  one  of  these 
days." 

She  nodded  gayly.  "And  now  it's  come,"  she  de- 
clared. 

"A  little  too  much,"  Billy  put  in,  "a  little  too  all-of-a- 
sudden."  He  drew  a  deep  breath.  "If  we  can  only  pull 
through  to-morrow,"  he  added,  "  we'll  be  O.  K.  Ain't 
that  right,  Al?" 

"  Don't  you  worry,"  Tunnison  assured  him ;  "  she'll 
go  through  like  a  forty-four  through  a  greaser." 

"  By  the  way,"  Billy  exclaimed,  "  did  I  tell  you  they're 
going  to  pull  off  a  dance  down  at  the  Golden  Fleece  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  night  ?  "  Tunnison  scowled. 

"  There's  a  big  gang  comin'  up  from  San  Luis, 
they  tell  me,  and  the  whole  Bar  Y  bunch  will  be  on 
hand " 

Sadie  leaned  forward.  "  Bar  Y,"  she  interrupted, 
"  why  that's " 

"  Curly  Watrous's  outfit,  you  know,"  Billy  explained. 
"  They've  made  him  foreman,  since  he  came  back." 

Sadie  rose  and  went  to  the  counter. 

"  One  of  the  boys  was  telling  me,"  Billy  ran  on,  "  that 
he  heard  Red  Lawton  was  planning  to  blow  in  with  a 

276 


A  Debut  is  Planned 


herd  of  sheepmen  from  over  East.  If  he  should,  and 
they  should  get  together — his  people  and  the  Bar  Y — 
there  might  be  trouble." 

Tunnison  had  risen,  his  little  eyes  glistening  like  a 
snake's,  and  as  Billy  ceased  speaking  he  turned  to  the 
stairway. 

"  Where  you  going  ? "  Thompson  called  across  the 
room. 

The  old  man  wheeled  about,  a  grimly  sardonic  grin 
twisting  his  leathery  countenance. 

"  I'm  a-goin'  t'  unlimber  m'  howitzer,"  was  the  signifi- 
cant reply  as  he  pulled  the  door  shut  after  him. 

It  was  early  the  next  morning  that  Jake,  the  bartender, 
came  upon  Billy  in  the  office  of  the  hotel. 

"  Mr.  Thompson,"  he  began  and  paused. 

Billy  looked  up  from  the  shiny  roulette  wheel  he  was 
polishing  with  a  yellow,  new  chamois. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  questioned. 

"  I  was  thinkin'  las'  night,"  Jake  went  on  cautiously, 
"  that  there's  shore  goin'  to  be  a  rush  here  t'night,  an' 
tain't  likely  but  what  I'll  be  needin'  more  'sistance." 

Billy  cast  a  suspicious  glance  at  him. 

"  What  d'  you  want  ?  "  he  snapped. 

He  had  never  cared  for  Jake  overly  much;  his  eyes 
were  altogether  too  shifty. 

"  I  was  jes'  thinkin,"  the  bartender  pursued,  "  that  if 
Mis'  Morrison " 

Billy  dropped  the  yellow  chamois  and  stared  into  the 
fistlike  face  of  the  shifty  Jake. 

277 


Sadie 

"  Miss  Morrison  help  you  serve  booze  to  a  lot  of — 
Well,  I  should  say " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  calmly  inquired  a  voice  behind  them, 
and  with  one  accord  they  turned  to  face  Sadie,  who  stood 
smiling  in  the  doorway,  a  broom  in  one  hand,  a  dustpan 
in  the  other. 

"  You  " — Billy  began  and  paused,  arrested  by  some- 
thing in  her  eyes. 

"  Sure,"  she  replied,  whereupon  Jake  grinned  fool- 
ishly. As  for  Billy,  the  brown  eyes  of  the  girl  in  the 
doorway  seemed  to  be  drilling  little  smooth  tunnels 
through  his  heart. 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  he  capitulated,  with  a  shrug,  recover- 
ing the  chamois  and  resuming  his  task.  "  You're  the  boss." 

Half  an  hour  later  Sadie  encountered  the  bartender 
in  the  upper  hallway  and  stopped  him.  "  Now,  look 
here,  Jake,"  she  warned,  "  I'm  next  to  this  country,  and 
I'll  stand  for  a  good  deal,  but  whenever  anybody  starts 
out  to  get  gay  with  me,  somethin'  always  happens.  I'm 
paid  to  help  here,  and  I'm  willing  to  help.  That's  all 
right.  So  if  you  really  want  me  to  lend  a  hand,  well  and 
good;  but  if  you've  got  it  framed  up  for  me  to  go  into 
that  barroom  and  sing  while  some  cowpuncher  plays  the 
Jew's-harp,  or  blow  bum  notes  through  a  mouth  organ, 
here's  where  you  get  off.  This  is  your  station.  Maybe 
I  can  take  care  of  myself  at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  but 
if  you've  got  it  into  your  head  that  I'm  a  dance-hall  sou- 
brette  you  want  to  smoke  up.  Understand  ?  " 

"  On  the  level — "  Jake  began,  throatily,  but  the  girl 
interrupted : 

278 


A  Debut  is  Planned 


"All  right,  then,  I'll  help  you ;  sure,"  she  promised ; 
and  snatching  up  her  pail  passed  on  down  the  hall,  leaving 
Jake,  glued  to  the  oilcloth,  staring  after  her. 

Thus  was  it  arranged  that  Sadie  Morrison  should 
make  her  debut  at  the  opening  of  the  Palace  that  night, 
as  the  first  barmaid  ever  to  appear  in  the  desert. 

"  When  the  news  trickles  through,  there'll  shore  be 
suthin'  doin',"  Jake  assured  himself. 

And  the  news  did  trickle  through  straightway.  Jake 
saw  to  that,  despite  the  frosty  warning  Sadie  had  given 
him.  He  told  Bub  Gleason  of  the  Bar  Y  outfit  whom  he 
chanced  to  meet  in  the  course  of  the  morning  at  the  Bon 
Marche,  and  Bub  told  others,  and  they  told  others  still, 
until  by  evening  it  would  appear  that  every  restless  man 
for  miles  around  had  heard  it. 

"  You  goin'  over  t'night  ?  "  Bub  inquired  of  Curly 
Watrous  as  he  rode  up  to  the  bunk  house,  just  before 
supper. 

Watrous,  sitting  in  the  doorway,  nodded.  "  Some- 
body's got  to  be  sane,  hasn't  there?  Somebody's  got  to 
keep  you  fellows  and  the  sheriff  apart.  Well,  I've  elected 
myself  the  buffer." 

"  Don't  forgit  the  dance  at  the  Fleece,"  cautioned 
Bub,  with  a  grin. 

Watrous  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Doncher  dance  ?  "  urged  the  puncher  wonderingly. 

"  I  don't  at  the  Golden  Fleece,"  was  the  terse  reply  as 
the  speaker  blew  an  opalescent  ring  of  smoke  at  the 
glowing  sky. 


19 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   OPENING  OF  THE   PALACE 

SOUNDS  of  revelry  issued  from  the  low-ceiled  bake- 
oven,  one  "  block  "  below  the  Palace,  called  by  its 
imaginative  proprietor — he  had  come  from  Massachu- 
setts— "  The  Golden  Fleece."  In  the  dry,  superheated 
atmosphere  of  the  new  dance  hall,  the  swinging  kerosene 
lamps  burned  with  a  metallic  luster.  Through  the  low- 
hanging  strata  of  smoke  the  dancers  glided  as  in  a  mist. 
The  music,  afforded  by  a  rattling  piano  and  a  screeching 
violin,  rose  above  the  shouts  of  the  men  and  the  high- 
pitched,  tragic  laughter  of  their  painted  partners.  The 
girl  at  the  piano,  a  wan  creature  in  an  abbreviated  red 
dress,  swayed  from  side  to  side  in  time  with  the  music 
which  she  seemed  to  wrench,  muscularly,  from  the  re- 
sisting instrument.  The  solid  thumps  of  high,  Spanish 
heels  shook  the  floor.  The  lamps  hanging  from  the  ceil- 
ing swung  dangerously.  The  picture  was  one  of  riotous 
revelry;  of  emotions  gone  mad  and  feet  flying  of  their 
own  accord. 

Hunched  up  in  his  chair  by  the  door  sat  Bub  Gleason, 
hungrily  sucking  at  a  corn-husk  cigarette. 

"  Where  you  goin'  ? "  he  called  as  Watrous  ap- 
proached, keeping  close  to  the  wall  and  threading  his  way 
like  a  weary  shuttle  through  the  glaring  warp. of  the 
dance. 

280 


The  Opening  of  the  Palace 

"  Looking  for  my  breathings,"  was  the  reply. 
"  Where's  the  air  hole  anyway  ?  " 

"  Aincha  havin'  a  good  time  ?  "  Bub  called  after  him, 
but  there  was  no  answer. 

In  the  street  Watrous  pulled  a  deep  breath  and 
whistled  with  relief.  Seating  himself  on  the  edge  of  the 
sidewalk  he  looked  up  at  the  glittering  stars.  There  was 
not  a  little  of  the  sentimental  in  Curly  Watrous,  and  what 
there  was  came  to  the  surface  now.  The  desert  night 
was,  for  the  moment,  far  more  in  harmony  with  his  mood 
than  was  the  chaos  from  which  he  had  emerged.  He  felt, 
perhaps,  that  he  had  a  great  deal  in  common  with  the 
stars  up  there,  after  all.  They  were  very  alone  despite 
their  multitude;  and  he,  though  in  the  midst  of  the 
earthly  outfit,  was  alone,  too.  Slowly  he  rolled  a  cigar- 
ette. Beyond  the  bar,  at  his  back,  the  piano  ceased  its 
wail  and  he  heard  the  brassy  voiced  fiddler  shout: 

"S'lect  yer  pardners  f er  a  kadrill !  " 

Watrous  rose,  then,  and  slouched  down  the  street. 
As  he  passed  he  glanced  through  the  doorway  of  the 
Last  Chance,  the  newest  saloon,  opened  three  days  before 
by  a  man  from  Barstow.  Half  a  dozen  idling  miners 
formed  a  crescent  in  front  of  the  wheel.  The  slot  ma- 
chines ranged  along  the  wall  were  deserted ;  two  of  them 
bore  signs,  "  Out  of  Order ;  "  but  facing  the  "  bank  "  at 
the  end  of  the  room  were  eight  men  whom  he  recognized, 
almost  as  if  by  instinct,  as  members  of  Reddy  Lawton's 
sheep  outfit  from  over  East.  The  lookout,  from  his 
throne,  glimpsed  him  through  the  doorway  and  waved 
his  hand.  At  the  motion  one  of  the  players — who 

281 


Sadie 

chanced  to  be  Red  Lawton  himself — half  turned  in  his 
chair,  gave  him  a  glance,  and  reverted  to  the  game.  As 
a  cowman  Watrous  looked  with  scorn  upon  all  "  bleat- 
ers."  Such  he  heaped  with  contumely,  and,  after  the 
manner  of  his  tribe,  refused  to  recognize  even  after  a 
conventional  introduction,  He  walked  on. 

Through  the  wide-open  doorway  of  the  Palace  bar 
floated  out  upon  the  soft  night  air  the  melody  of  "After 
the  Ball,"  played  upon  a  mouth  organ.  A  moment  Wat- 
rous hesitated,  then  entered.  Jake,  whom  he  had  often 
met  at  Cottonwood,  nodded  to  him  as  he  strode  down  the 
room  and  seated  himself  at  a  little  table  in  front  of  a 
glistening,  new  dollar  slot  machine  at  the  further  end. 
At  two  near-by  tables  a  number  of  sheepmen  were  drink- 
ing. Half  a  dozen  cowboys  elbow  to  elbow  stood  at  the 
bar.  Jake  was  alone  in  front  of  the  gauze-covered 
mirror,  his  shirt  open  at  the  throat,  his  sleeves  rolled  to 
his  elbows.  Evidently  some  one  had  "  strung  "  Bub  with 
that  tale  of  a  barmaid,  Watrous  decided.  But  he  was 
quite  wrong.  It  was  as  yet  too  early ;  that  was  all.  Jake 
had  assured  Sadie  he  would  not  call  upon  her  save  as  a 
last  resort  and  thus  far  he  had  been  able  to  serve  the 
Palace's  guests  without  assistance.  At  the  moment  Sadie 
was  busy  above  stairs  arranging  the  rooms  of  the  hotel's 
first  guests  whom  the  long  overland  had  deposited  in 
front  of  the  red  station  half  an  hour  before.  As  for 
Billy  and  Tunnison,  they  were  auditing  the  last  bills  in 
the  little  cubby-hole  the  former  had  fitted  up  for  himself 
at  the  end  of  the  hallway.  Within  five  minutes,  how- 
ever, the  air  of  Main  Street  was  suddenly  rent  by  a 

282 


The  Opening  of  the  Palace 

series  of  metallic  yells  and  the  "  bleaters  "  whom  Wat- 
rous  had  seen  in  the  Last  Chance  flocked  into  the  bar 
with  Reddy  Lawton  at  their  head.  Instinctively  the 
punchers  pressed  closer  together  and  let  their  right  hands 
fall  carelessly  to  their  hips.  Watrous  glanced  swiftly 
from  them  to  the  open  doorway,  as  if  measuring  the  dis- 
tance. But  if  Lawton,  half  drunk  as  he  was,  perceived 
these  things  he  gave  no  sign. 

"  Where's  that  girl  o'  yourn,  Jake  ? "  he  called 
hoarsely.  "  Trot'er  out !  Le's  have  a  squint  at  'er ! " 

Jake  grinned  and  wiped  his  hands  on  the  bar  towel. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  t'  with  all  this  bunch,"  he  de- 
clared. 

One  of  the  sheepmen  at  a  table  by  the  door  began  to 
sing.  The  chorus  of  the  ballad  was  shouted  lustily  by  his 
fellows.  The  strains  of  the  mouth  organ  were  com- 
pletely vanquished.  And  then,  with  a  suddenness  that  was 
startling,  a  thick,  breathless  silence  settled  upon  the  room. 
Following  the  direction  of  the  eyes  in  front  of  him,  Wat- 
rous turned.  There,  in  front  of  the  little  door  at  the  end  of 
the  bar,  stood  Sadie,  smiling.  Lawton,  a  gleam  of  recog- 
nition lighting  his  filmy  eyes,  craned  forward. 

"  Hello,  boys !  "  she  greeted  them,  and  gave  a  little 
upward  toss  of  her  head  that  shook  her  pompadour. 

Watrous  stared  at  her  curiously  as  she  stood  there 
with  one  hand  on  the  end  rail  of  the  bar,  as  if 
waiting ;  as  nonchalantly  as  if  her  being  there,  under  such 
circumstances,  were  quite  the  most  ordinary  situation  in 
the  world.  To  him,  in  the  instant  it  was  given  him  to 
analyze,  it  was  as  if  she  were  enclosed  within  a  strange 

283 


Sadie 

element  all  her  own,  something  invisible  yet  none  the  less 
entirely  protective.  Perhaps  it  was  an  aura;  perhaps 
nothing  more  or  less  than  the  personality  of  a  pretty  girl. 
But  whichever  it  might  be,  here,  he  realized,  was  no 
painted  lady.  Hers  was  the  independence,  the  fearless- 
ness of  such  an  one  perhaps ;  but  it  was  an  independence 
born  of  confidence  rather  than  of  hopelessness. 

As  for  Lawton,  not  since  that  momentous  night  long 
ago  when  Billy  Thompson,  with  this  girl's  assistance, 
had  given  him  "  the  can  "  from  Bagdad,  had  he  seen  her. 
San  Luis  alone  had  known  his  presence  in  the  interim, 
and  as  his  heavy,  lustful  eyes  rested  upon  her  now  all 
his  old  hate  came  back  a  thousandfold  intensified  by  the 
girl's  indifferent  regard.  That  night,  brooding  in  the 
smoker,  he  had  sworn  that  there  would  come  a  day  for 
Billy  Thompson  and  for  this  girl,  and  now  he  recalled 
that  oath.  He  hated  her  even  as  he  hated  Thompson — 
as  he  hated  all  men  and  all  women  if  he  but  realized. 
She  was  speaking,  her  voice  clear  and  even;  and  as  she 
spoke  she  smiled,  the  gold  in  her  teeth  glinting  in  the 
lamplight.  ' 

"  Boys,"  she  said,  "  what  are  you  goin'  to  have  ?  I'm 
going  to  help  Jake  here.  He  couldn't  take  care  of  this 
bunch  in  a  thousand  years.  Now  don't  all  break  out  at 
once  like  you  were  hit  with  the  measles,  but  let  'em  come 
easy.  What'll  it  be  ?  " 

The  spell  that  her  appearance  had  cast  upon  the  room 
lifted  as  she  spoke.  Somebody  by  the  door  whooped. 
Sadie  laughed.  The  orders  they  flung  at  her  were  not 
sufficient  to  confuse  her,  being  of  a  single  import.  With 

284 


The  Opening  of  the  Palace 

a  shining,  leaning  tower  of  telescoped  glasses  in  either 
hand  she  went  swiftly  from  table  to  table  placing  one  in 
front  of  each  man.  Her  back  was  turned  to  the  crowd 
as  she  stopped  in  front  of  the  little  table  at  which  Wat- 
rous  sat  alone.  And  then  for  the  first  time  her  eyes 
met  his.  An  instant  she  hesitated;  mechanically  she 
pushed  the  glass  across  the  table.  Then  he  smiled  up 
into  her  face  and  she  returned  the  smile.  Into  her  eyes 
and  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth  there  crept  a  little 
faint  expression  of  wistfulness,  and  she  drew  her  lower 
lip  between  her  teeth  as  if  in  doubt. 

"  Fill  'em  up !  " 

At  the  call  she  turned,  with  a  quick  glance  over  her 
shoulder.  Watrous  had  dropped  his  eyes  and  was  finger- 
ing his  glass.  Swiftly  she  served  them  all,  collecting  as 
she  did  so.  She  was  directly  in  front  of  Watrous  again 
as  Lawton,  his  face  flushed,  got  unsteadily  upon  his  feet, 
one  hairy  hand  clutching  the  table  edge. 

"  Here's  t'  th'  barmaid !  "  he  cried  hoarsely.  "  Say ! 
I  remember  you,  but  I  don't  know  yer  name.  Wha's  yer 
name,  anyway  ?  " 

She  did  not  smile  as  she  glanced  at  him,  albeit  she 
realized  she  had  nothing  to  fear  now. 

"  Sadie,"  was  her  terse  answer.  The  crowd  laughed 
— all  but  Watrous. 

"  Here's  t'  Sadie !  "  Lawton  growled,  and  glanced 
about  him.  The  clamor  broke  forth  afresh.  A  little 
close-cropped  fellow  with  bow  legs  and  watery  eyes 
begged  a  dance.  She  refused  him;  others  she  refused, 
who  sought  her  favor,  but  always  with  a  smile. 

285 


Sadie 

"  Kin  yeh  dance,  anyway  ? "  Lawton  demanded. 
"  Yeh  didn't  th'  las'  time  I  saw  yeh !  "  He  chuckled  in 
his  throat. 

"  I  can,  but  I  ain't  goin'  to,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

The  jeers  of  his  companions  brought  the  blood  to 
Lawton's  face.  Brushing  aside  those  who  would  re- 
strain him  he  staggered  out  into  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  Cancha  change  yer  mind  ?  "  he  snarled. 

The  girl's  swift  perception  told  her  his  intent.  Cast- 
ing a  frightened  glance  about  her  she  glided  down  the 
room.  Jake  was  not  behind  the  bar.  Where  was  he, 
or  Billy,  or  Al,  or  anybody?  At  Watrous's  table  she 
stopped,  and  turning,  confronted  her  leering  pursuer. 
Watrous,  behind,  saw  her  clenched  fists,  white  against 
the  red  stain  of  the  table  top. 

"An'  mebbe  this  time  ye'll  gi'  a  feller  a  kiss ! "  he 
heard.  He  saw  her  hands  go  forward.  There  sounded 
a  jeering  laugh  as,  struggling,  she  was  bent  back  over  the 
table.  But  it  was  not  her  lips  that  Reddy  Lawton's  were 
to  touch  just  then.  Instead  his  half-drunken  kiss  was 
imprinted  upon  the  cold  muzzle  of  Curly  Watrous's  .44, 
and  quite  clearly  there  sounded  in  his  throbbing  ears : 

"  Take  your  hands  off  that  girl  or  I'll  spatter  you  all 
over  this  joint !  " 

The  tense  stillness  of  the  instant  that  followed  was 
broken  by  the  distant  whistle  of  Number  8. 

Dazed  and  bulging-eyed,  Lawton  obeyed  the  softly 
spoken  command. 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  this  little  vaudeville  was 
attended  to  its  climax  by  every  occupant  of  the  Palace 

286 


The  Opening  of  the  Palace 

bar.  Lawton's  role  was  not  unusual.  His  acting  had 
been  but  indifferently  observed.  Indeed,  amid  the  clatter 
of  glass  and  the  general  confusion,  even  Watrous's  little 
speech  at  the  close  of  the  piece  was  heard  by  no  one  save 
the  cowboys  closest  to  him,  and  by  Jake  who,  at  the 
moment  of  its  delivery,  had  entered  through  the  door  at 
the  end  of  the  bar.  It  was  only  when  Lawton  drew 
slowly  back,  his  eyes  fastened  upon  the  little  circle  of 
the  revolver  barrel,  that  some  understanding  of  what 
was  taking  place  at  the  end  of  the  room  dawned  upon 
his  mates.  At  the  table,  leaning  over,  one  hand  rest- 
ing on  the  top,  stood  Watrous,  foreman  of  the  Bar-Y. 
A  little  apart,  the  half  dozen  cowboys  of  his  outfit, 
hands  at  hips — waited.  Beside  him,  her  face  drawn 
and  ashen,  Sadie  crouched — one  hand  pressed  to  her 
cheek. 

All  thought  of  the  gun,  sagging  at  his  hip,  appeared 
to  have  fled  from  Lawton's  numbed  brain. 

"  This  ain't  the  Palace  at  San  Luis,  friend."  Wat- 
rous's lips  seemed  barely  to  move.  "  Back  out !  " 

Slowly  the  order  was  obeyed.  No  one  interfered. 
Save  for  the  shuffle  of  Lawton's  feet  as  he  moved  toward 
the  door,  a  stillness  fraught  with  lightning  prevailed 
in  the  room. 

On  the  threshold  Lawton  gave  a  quick  glance  over 
his  shoulder.  In  front  of  the  station  the  engine  bell  of 
Number  8  was  ringing. 

"  There's  a  day  comin'  fer  you ! "  he  snarled.  "  A 
day  fer  you  and  fer  Billy  Thompson,  too.  You  got  me 
now  " — He  was  on  the  porch.  Behind  him  one  of  the 

287 


Sadie 

cowboy's  ponies  nickered.  Number  8,  coughing  with  the 
effort,  was  pulling  out — "  you  damned  maverick — you 
an'  that " 

Watrous  sprang  around  the  table  with  an  oath. 

"Boy!     Boy!" 

He  heard  Sadie's  shrill  warning.  It  was  over  in  an 
instant.  She  had  seen  the  quick  motion  of  Lawton's 
hand  as  Watrous  leaped.  The  explosion  shivered  the 
chimney  of  one  of  the  swinging  lamps  and  the  glass  fell 
crashing  to  the  floor.  The  figure  that  had  sprung  in 
front  of  him  tottered  and  collapsed  at  Watrous's  feet — 
her  white  waist  stained  all  down  the  front  a  deep,  rich 
red 

Behind,  a  voice  spoke. 

"  Sift  out !     We  got  you  covered." 

In  the  doorway  at  the  end  of  the  bar  stood  Billy 
Thompson  with  a  Winchester,  while  Jake,  alive  at  last, 
with  a  Colt's  in  each  hand,  swept  the  room  broadside. 

On  the  instant  every  sheepman  broke  for  cover  with- 
out. 

Lawton  had  leaped  upon  the  back  of  the  first  pony 
at  hand  and  as  the  bar  emptied  was  riding  like  the  wind 
down  Main  Street  directly  for  the  siding,  amid  a  rain  of 
bullets.  Number  8  was  gathering  speed.  With  a  yell,  the 
pack  of  cowboys  were  upon  him,  firing  as  they  galloped. 
Guiding  his  pony  close  to  the  sides  of  the  gliding  Pull- 
mans Lawton  dropped  the  reins,  reached  out,  caught 
the  rail  and  swung  himself  from  the  saddle  aboard  the 
last  platform  of  the  now  swiftly  moving  train.  And 
there,  four  hours  later,  when  the  train  stopped  for  water 

288 


The  Opening  of  the  Palace 

at  Mason's  Tank,  he  was  found,  dead,  and  drenched  with 
the  blood  from  seven  bullet  wounds. 

In  her  room  at  the  Palace  lay  Sadie.  Sansome, 
quickly  summoned,  had  brought  with  him  a  tourist  doctor 
arrived  that  day.  Leaning  against  the  banister,  just  out- 
side the  door,  Watrous,  and  Billy,  and  Tunnison  waited. 
.  .  .  After  half  an  hour  Sansome  and  the  doctor  came 
out. 

"  It's  not  much,"  the  latter  announced,  "  just  in  the 
shoulder.  She'll  be  all  right  presently.  Let  her  rest  a 
bit.  Don't  worry.  I've  told  that  Mexican  girl  what 
to  do." 

They  filed  down  the  stairs,  then,  Curly  Watrous  last. 

"  What  was  it  all  about,  Curly  ?  "  Billy  asked,  when 
the  others  had  gone,  and  they  were  alone  on  the  porch. 
Watrous  told  him. 

"  I  see,"  Thompson  said,  and  held  out  his  hand. 
"  Better  come  over  in  the  morning  and  see  how  she  is," 
he  added. 

Hours  later  he  crept  noiselessly  down  the  hallway  and 
pressing  his  cheek  against  the  panel  of  Sadie's  door, 
listened. 

"  Seems  to  be  sleeping  all  right,"  he  whispered  to  him- 
self, as  he  tiptoed  back  to  his  own  room. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

WELLj   AFTER   ALL — 

JERRY  ROWLEY  was  displaying  his  stock  of  quirts 
and  bridles  for  the  benefit  of  Bub  Gleason  at  the 
rear  of  the  Bon  Marche,  on  a  sunshiny  afternoon  some 
ten  days  later,  as  Billy  sauntered  in.  The  latter  had  taken 
to  smoking  a  pipe  of  late  and  it  was  now  his  mood  to 
scorn  cigarettes  as  well  as  those  who  smoked  them.  The 
puncher,  absentmindedly  purring  at  a  brown-wrapped 
tube,  looked  up  as  he  approached. 

"  How  long  since  ?  "  he  inquired,  with  a  grin. 

Billy,  who  recognized  him  from  the  Bar  Y  symbol 
scrawled  in  charcoal  on  the  upturned  brim  of  his  be- 
draggled hat,  removed  the  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
replied : 

"Since  what?" 

"Since  you  took  t'  firin'  a  stove?" 

"  Don't  you  like  that  pipe  ?  "  Thompson  asked,  hold- 
ing it  off  at  arm's  length  and  admiring  it,  with  his  head 
cocked  to  one  side.  "  I  tell  you  there's  nothing  like  a 
pipe  when  a  fellow's  got  a  heap  o'  thinking  to  do.  Those 
hay-fever  inhalers  are  all  right  for  babies,  and  cowboys, 
maybe,  but  when  you're  running  a  hotel  you've  got  to 
have  something  solider." 

Bub  laughed,  and  Rowley  grinned. 
290 


Well,  After  All— 


"  How's  the  lady  ?  "  the  former  inquired. 

"She's  all  right,"  Billy  assured  him.  "It  didn't 
amount  to  much ;  just  plowed  up  her  shoulder,  that's  all." 

"  Any  of  Lawton's  gang  been  around  since  ? "  the 
cowboy  pursued. 

Thompson  shook  his  head.  "  Couldn't  find  one  of 
'em  with  a  fine-tooth  comb,"  he  declared. 

"  D'  ye  know,"  Bub  went  on  sourly,  removing  his 
cigarette  and  laying  it  at  the  edge  of  the  counter,  "  I  wish 
I  c'd  'a'  had  a  look  at  that  guy  'fore  they  planted  him. 
Me'n  the  boss — Curly,  y'  know — got  into  a  argyment 
'bout  it.  He  'lowed  I  never  hit  him  't  all.  I  'lowed  I 
did.  I  let  drive  two  times,  once  when  he  wa'nt  more'n 
twenty-five  yards  away,  an'  once  jus'  as  he  made  his  flyin' 
leap.  If  I'd  'a'  had  a  chance  t'  prod  around  in  'is  carkiss 
I'll  bet  I  c'd  'a'  found  my  lead.  But  say,  did  ye  ever  see 
sech  a  git-away  in  your  life — him  a-ridin'  up  alongside 
that  train  an'  swingin'  aboard  ?  Couldn't  he'p  admirin'  the 
nerve  o'  the  cuss.  On  the  square  I  kind  o'  hated  to  let  go 
at  him,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  would  Ve  if  it  hadn't  been 
my  hoss!" 

"  You  saw  it  then,  did  you  ?  "  Billy  inquired,  with 
some  show  of  reviving  interest. 

"Saw  it?    I  should  say  I  did!" 

He  selected  one  of  the  quirts  and  paid  for  it  with 
his  wage  check  which  he  produced  from  inside  the  sweat- 
band  of  his  hat. 

"  Lady  up  'n  out,  eh  ? "  he  went  on,  slapping  his 
creaky  chaps  with  the  snaky  lash.  "  Looks  like  Curly 
had  it  pretty  bad,  don't  it;  ridin'  over  every  day?  Jes* 

291 


Sadie 

like  a  story,  ain't  it?  Well,  s'  long."  And  he  teetered 
out  of  the  store  on  his  high  heels,  his  spurs  clinking  and 
the  leather  of  his  costume  squeaking  like  new  shoes. 

Afterwards  for  a  little  while,  Billy  and  Jerry  sat 
together  under  the  new  awning,  Rowley's  contribution  to 
the  greater  glory  of  Main  Street. 

Three  days  before,  the  railway  from  the  North  had 
reached  the  main  line  at  Bagdad.  Since  then  the  pile 
of  freight  on  the  siding  had  grown  continuously  less  as 
one  after  another  of  the  gold  outfits  departed  for  the 
new  fields.  Also  there  were  fewer  tents  dotting  the  sand 
now  than  there  had  been  the  week  before,  but,  as  Jerry 
said,  "The  ol'  town'll  never  be  what  she  used  t'  be," 
which  brought  back  to  the  mind  of  Billy  Thompson  mem- 
ory of  that  day  when  he  and  Robinson  and  Skinny  had 
spat  at  the  lizard  in  front  of  the  station.  Where  the  liz- 
ard had  lain,  basking  in  the  sun,  now  stood  a  private  car, 
arrived  that  noon,  its  brass  work  glistening  in  the 
dazzling  light. 

Rowley  gave  Thompson  a  questioning  glance  from 
the  tail  of  his  eye. 

"  Take  much  stock  in  all  this  talk  'bout  Curly  an' — 
her  ?  "  he  inquired  presently. 

"  Which  talk  ? "  was  the  reply,  though  Billy  knew 
quite  well  to  what  the  storekeeper  referred. 

"  Miss  Morrison " 

Billy  shifted  in  his  chair. 

"You  mean  Sadie?" 

"  Th'  same.  'Course  I  know  he's  been  comin'  over 
here  every  day  since  th' — th'  accident"  he  observed, 

292 


Well,  After  All— 


"  but  raebbe  that  don't  mean  nothin' — that  is  to  say, 
nothin'  special.  'Tain't  any  more'n  what  anybody'd  do, 
likely,  only  the  Bar-Y  boys  kind  o'  got  the  idee  him  'n' 
Sadie — I  mean  Miss  Morrison — '11  hit  it  off.  Think  they 
will?" 

"How  the  devil  d'  you  suppose  I  know?"  was  the 
tart  rejoinder. 

"  I  didn't  realize  you  felt  that  way  'bout  it,"  Jerry 
pursued  soothingly,  "  only  it  would  be  a  blamed  shame, 
that's  all — a  blamed  shame.  Who  knows  anything  'bout 
him,  anyway?  Nobody,  far's  I  can  see.  Guess  I've 
known  him  ever  since  he's  been  here,  so've  you.  But 
they  don't  neither  of  us  really  know  him;  all  about  him, 
I  mean — who  he  is,  where  he  came  from,  an'  the  like  o' 
that.  Seem's  if  I'd  know,  if  anybody  did,  prospectin' 
with  him  up  yonder,  but  I  don't " 

"  Ever  try  to  draw  him  out  ?  "  Billy  inquired  thought- 
fully. 

"  Yes — an'  got  set  on,"  was  the  ruminative  reply. 
"  'Member  them  callin'  cards  he  passed  out  when  he  first 
showed  up?  I've  got  one  of  'em  in  the  safe  yet — saved 
it  as  a  curiosity.  '  William  Cunliffe  Watrous '  was  the 
way  it-read,  'f  I  ricollect  rightly.  Flossy  soundin'  name, 
ain't  it?  'Tain't  that  I  got  anything  ag'in  Curly,  for  I 
ain't.  Far's  I  know  he's  all  right,  on  the  level,  decent, 
'n'  all  that ;  but  jes'  the  same  he's  a  mystery ;  an'  I  guess 
you'n  me  both  think  too  much  of  the  Sadie  girl  to  let 
her  hook  up  with  a  mystery,  'ithout  so  much  as  liftin' 
a  hand  to  stop  her,  less'n  she  knows  jes'  what  she's 
doin'." 

293 


Sadie 

"  You're  right,  Jerry,"  Billy  agreed,  "  but  what  can 
we  do  about  it  ?  " 

Rowley  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  thought  one  of  us,  mebbe,  ought  t'  take  her  t'  one 
side  an'  sort  o'  tell  her " 

Billy  faced  him.  "  Why  don't  you,  then  ? "  he  in- 
quired. 

Jerry  pursed  his  lips.  "  Well,  I  thought  you — bein' 
right  there,"  he  began  hesitatingly,  but  Billy  interrupted : 

"Who?  Me?  Me  tell  her  what  to  do?  Not  in 
seventeen  million  years,"  he  declared,  rising.  "  I  know 
her  too  well.  That's  just  the  trouble.  No,  Jerry,"  he 
added,  as  he  filled  his  pipe  afresh,  "  it's  Sadie's  game 
and  she's  got  to  play  it  to  the  finish.  There's  nothing 
for  you  and  me  to  do  but  just  look  on — over  her 
shoulder." 

Rowley  rose  with  a  sigh.  "All  right,  then,  we'll 
wait,"  he  said.  Taking  Billy's  arm  he  drew  him  back 
into  the  store.  "  I  'most  forgot,"  he  explained,  "  come 
on  in  here  jes'  a  minute ;  I  got  something  I  want  t'  show 
you." 

With  much  mystery  he  led  the  way  to  the  extreme 
rear  of  the  establishment.  He  had  partitioned  off  a  little 
nook  there  with  a  wall  of  tinned-meat  cases,  and  Billy 
knew  that  oftentimes,  in  the  old  days,  when  his  condition 
precluded  ever  finding  his  'dobe,  it  had  been  his  custom 
to  sleep  here  on  the  floor.  A  door  gave  into  the  corner 
from  the  outside,  and  during  the  day  a  single,  dusty 
window  let  in  a  little  sunlight.  Billy  squeezed  between 
the  boxes  after  Rowley  until  both  were  within  the  dim 

294 


Well,  After  All— 


little  compartment.  On  the  floor,  covered  with  a  burlap, 
lay  a  thin,  oblong  object,  over  which  the  storekeeper 
stooped. 

"  I  brought  it  up  from  San  Luis  las'  night,"  he  said. 
"  They  ain't  nobody  seen  it  but  you." 

He  drew  off  the  covering  then,  and  the  sunlight,  filter- 
ing through  the  unwashed  window,  fell  upon  a  narrow 
slab  of  granite,  on  which,  deeply  cut,  was  this : 

HERE  LIES 

SKINNY  MCGREGOR, 

HE  WAS  A  GAME 
LITTLE    CUSS. 

Still  bending  over  the  slab,  Rowley  turned  his  head, 
and  looking  up  into  Billy's  face  asked: 

"How  do  you  like  it?" 

But  something  lumpy  had  crowded  into  Billy  Thomp- 
son's throat,  just  as  something  misty  had  gathered  in 
his  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  he  did  not  reply,  but  in  that 
moment  his  hand  somehow  found  Rowley's  shoulder  and 
rested  there. 

"  That  was  pretty — pretty  fine  of  you,  Jerry,"  he 
muttered  huskily,  finding  his  voice  at  last. 

"  I'm  goin'  t'  set  it  up,  out  there,  jes'  as  soon's  I  git 
the  time,"  Rowley  promised,  as  he  spread  the  burlap 
again.  "  D'  you  s'pose  she'll  like  it? " 

"You  mean  Sadie?"  Billy  replied.  "Why,  Jerry, 
you  couldn't  have  done  anything  that  would  please  her 
20  295 


Sadie 

more.  She  thought  a  heap  of  that  little  fellow — a  whole 
heap.  And  what's  written  on  it's  just  what  she'd  have 
put  there,  too— and  what  Skinny'd  like  best  of  all  to  have 
on  it." 

"  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  better,"  Rowley  coh- 
fessed  as  they  came  out  under  the  awning. 

Off  in  the  east,  riding  toward  the  mesa,  he  descried 
two  figures. 

"  There  they  go,"  he  exclaimed,  his  hand  on  Billy's 
arm. 

Thompson  turned,  and  for  a  space  both  men  con- 
tinued to  gaze  at  the  distant  riders  until  their  own  dust 
clouds  obscured  them,  when  with  a  nod  Billy  walked 
silently  away. 

"  It  looks  as  if  there  might  be  something  in  the  talk 
after  all,"  he  told  himself,  as  he  ascended  the  porch  of 
the  Palace. 

In  the  shade  of  the  mesa,  on  the  eastern  slope,  sat 
Sadie  and  Watrous  side  by  side.  A  little  way  apart 
their  horses  stood  in  that  attitude  of  deep  dejection 
and  monumental  thought  which  is  ever  the  pose  of  the 
cow  pony  off  duty.  Sadie  was  toying  with  Watrous's 
revolver,  now  and  then  holding  it  off  at  arm's  length 
and  sighting  along  the  blue  barrel  at  a  distant  cac- 
tus. After  a  while,  tiring  of  this,  she  reached  out  to 
slip  the  weapon  back  into  its  holster  and  Watrous 
caught  her  wrist.  Her  face  was  very  close  to  his; 
an  instant  they  gazed  deep  into  each  other's  eyes,  then 
hers  fell. 

296 


CO 


Well,   After  All- 


"  Sadie,"  he  said,  "  not  once  since  the  night  it  hap- 
pened have  I  asked  you,  and  you  haven't  offered  to  tell 
me  of  your  own  accord — won't  you  now?  What  made 
you  do  it  ?  " 

Her  eyes  opened  very  wide. 

"Do  what?" 

He  smiled. 

"  Cut  in  when  that  damned  sheep  opened  up  ?  " 

"Oh,  you  mean  that?"  she  replied.  "What  made 
me  ?  Why,  Curly,  that's  a  funny  question !  What  made 
me?  Why,  boy,  I  couldn't  help  it !  " 

About  them,  here,  was  spread  a  dead  nature.  They 
and  the  dozing  horses  were  the  only  living  things  in  all 
the  world. 

"  But  you'd  never  seen  me  up  to  half  an  hour  before," 
he  insisted. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  had,"  she  caught  him  up  quickly,  with  a 
smile.  "  The  night  of  the  dance,  down  at  San  Luis — 
the  night  you  went  North."  She  shut  her  eyes  and 
described  to  him  the  picture  that  she  saw.  "  I  was  up  in 
the  balcony — in  one  of  those  little  stalls.  I  saw  you 
across  the  dance  hall,  down  below.  You  were  sitting 
on  a  table.  You  had  pushed  back  your  hat  and  the  light 
struck  on  your  hair.  That  was  the  first  time,  Curly. 
And  the  second  time  was  that  same  night.  You  were 
talking  to  Billy  under  the  torch  in  the  yard.  When  you 
lit  your  cigarette  you  looked  up  at  the  window  where  I 
was,  and  I  drew  back  because  I  thought  you  saw  me. 
You  didn't  though,  I  guess.  And  the  next  time  was  that 
night  in  the  Palace.  But  the  number  of  times  don't  cut 

297 


Sadie 

any  ice — it's  just  that  I  saw  you — and  I  did  see  you — 
didn't  I,  Curly?" 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Sadie,  but " 

She  lifted  her  face;  a  touch  of  color  had  come  into 
her  cheeks. 

"Well?"  she  questioned. 

He  leaned  toward  her.  "  You  did,  Sadie  ?  "  he  whis- 
pered, "  the  first  time  you  saw  me  ?  " 

She  dug  her  heel  into  the  sand  and  studied  the  hem 
of  her  skirt. 

"  It  would  almost  seem  as  if  I  did,  wouldn't  it, 
Curly  ?  "  was  her  evasive  answer. 

"  And  then,  when  the  chance  came,  you  jumped 
in  and  took  the  bullet  that  was  meant  for  me  ?  "  He 
seemed  to  hang  upon  her  reply.  It  came  straightway, 
direct. 

"  Why,  sure,"  she  said,  as  her  eyes  met  his  squarely. 

"Sadie!" 

He  seized  her  hand,  and  bending  over,  kissed  it  again 
and  again.  She  smiled  as  she  had  smiled  when  she 
placed  the  glass  before  him  on  the  table,  back  in  the  bar 
of  the  Palace  that  night,  and  unconsciously  she  drew  into 
her  lap  the  hand  that  he  had  kissed  and  covered  it  with 
her  other  hand. 

The  shadow  of  the  mesa  was  creeping  farther  and 
farther  out  upon  the  desert  which  stretched  away  before 
them  to  the  world's  end.  For  a  little  while  neither  spoke, 
then  Watrous  said: 

"  Sadie,  nobody  out  here  knows  anything  about  me ; 
I've  never  told  anyone;  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you?  " 

298 


Well,   After  All— 


She  turned  to  him  and  shook  her  head.  "  You  needn't 
if  you  don't  want  to,  Curly." 

"  But  I  do,"  he  declared.  "  I  was  in  Harvard,  Sadie," 
he  began,  building  a  little  cone  of  sand  between  his 
knees,  "  that's  the  big  college  down  by  Boston,  you  know. 
I  was  a  regular  mutt  those  days.  Of  course  I  didn't 
realize  it  then,  but  I  do  now.  I  learned  to  ride  a  bang- 
tailed  pony,  and  belonged  to  a  pistol  club.  The  boys  here 
never  have  been  able  to  figure  it  out  how  it  happens  that 
I  can  ride  and  shoot.  Well,  that's  how.  I  was  almost 
through,  there  in  college,  when  something  happened ; 
it  don't  make  any  difference  what,  and  I  was  fired.  My 
dad  stood  up  on  his  hind  legs  and  danced  like  a  locoed 
bronc.  Anyway  I  guess  he  was  sick  of  paying  for  the 
polo  pony.  He  told  me  to  duck.  I  ducked.  I  hit  the 
trail  for  Utah,  then  Nevada,  then  here.  I  hear  from 
the  folks  at  home  once  in  a  while.  I  don't  write  often. 
Of  course  I'd  go  back  if  I  had  to,  but  I  guess  I  never  will. 
If  there's  anyone  that'll  get  me  back  it's  my  mother.  I'm 
worth  some  money,  Sadie,  too.  Not  that  that  makes 
any  difference,  only  I  happen  to  be.  My  two  claims  up 
North  of  Timber  mountain  are  worth  anyway  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars,  for  I've  been  offered  that  for  them.  So 
you  see  I've  nothing  to  worry  about  as  far  as  making 
both  ends  meet  is  concerned.  And  that's  all.  Not  much 
of  a  story,  is  it?  Tame  as  shooting  sage  hens,  isn't  it? 
But,  Sadie,  the  last  ten  days  I've  been  doing  a  lot  of 
thinking,  and  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  Promise 
me  one  thing,  Sadie  ?  " 

"What?"  she  asked  quietly. 
299 


Sadie 

"  That  you'll  answer  me  fair  ?  " 

"  But  there's  something  you're  holding  back,  boy," 
she  recalled.  "  What  about  the  girl  ?  Curly,  can  you 
look  me  square  in  the  eyes  and  tell  me  there  ain't  a  girl, 
back  East,  somewhere?" 

He  leaned  toward  her  and  one  of  his  bronzed  hands 
closed  over  one  of  hers  where  it  lay  passive  in  her  lap. 

"  I'll  not  lie — Sadie — not  to  you ;  there  was  once , 
but  that's  all  past — now." 

"  Oh,  no,  Curly,"  she  replied,  as  she  slowly  shook  her 
head,  "  it  ain't.  It'll  never  be  past — never  as  long  as 
you  stay  out  here.  No,  Curly,  don't  ask  me  what  you 
were  going  to — for  your  own  sake,  Curly,  for  I've  got  my 
answer  all  framed  up  now,  and  it's  '  No/  Curly,  '  No.'  " 
She  lifted  a  restraining  hand.  "  Do  you  think  I  didn't 
realize  this  would  be  the  finish  ?  Oh,  boy !  I  knew  it  the 
first  time  I  looked  into  your  eyes  and  saw  yours  looking 
into  mine.  And  don't  you  suppose  I  knew  then  what 
you  were — that  you  didn't  belong  out  here,  and  never 
would  if  you  stayed  forever,  and  wore  chaps  and  a  gun 
till  you  died.  And  I  know  what  that  girl's  like,  too. 
I  lived  back  East  once,  as  I  told  you  the  first  time  you 
came  to  see  me  after  that  night  it  happened,  and  used  to 
see  lots  of  'em.  And,  God !  how  I  hated  'em !  That  was 
before  I  got  wise.  Curly,  it's  like  ponies;  there  are 
broncs  that'll  follow  you  around  all  day,  and  there  are 
others  that'll  never  be  tamed  this  side  of  —  you  know. 
You're  for  that  girl  back  East,  Curly;  you're  hers.  As 
for  me,  I  belong  out  here,  even  if  I  didn't  find  it  for  a 
long,  long  time.  When  I  did,  I  knew  it.  That  I  wasn't 

300 


Well,  After  All— 


born  out  here  was  a  mistake.  I  realize  it  now.  And  that 
He  let  me  come  later  was  God's  way  of  correcting  the 
mistake  He'd  made.  That's  all.  I'm  going  to  stay  here 
always.  Probably  when  I  finish  I'll  grow  up  again — a 
cactus.  Curly,  just  because  a  girl  would  die  for  a  fellow 
don't  mean  she'd  marry  him — out  here.  Maybe  I'm  a 
few  chips  shy  on  making  myself  clear,  Curly " — she 
gripped  his  shoulders  firmly  and  leaned  close  to  him — 
"  but  tell  me  you  understand.  Tell  me." 

Their  eyes  met. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  pleaded. 

"  Yes." 

As  he  spoke  she  brushed  his  yellow  hair  back  from 
his  forehead  tenderly,  and  there  was  revealed  a  scar  that 
she  had  never  seen  before. 

"  What  made  that  ?  "  she  asked,  touching  the  spot. 

He  smiled. 

"That?"  he  replied.  "That's  my  lucky  dent.  It's 
a  constant  reminder  of  two  things,  Sadie  girl— one,  that 
I  came  pretty  near  cashing  in  once  upon  a  time ;  the  other, 
that  you  never  can  tell." 

A  look  of  puzzlement  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  got  it  up  North — prospecting.  I  fell  in  with  a 
chap  up  there,  as  you  will,  you  know,  and  we  pushed  on, 
into  the  hills  together.  It  was  after  Rowley  and  I  had 
separated.  He  was  a  good-enough  fellow — high-tem- 
pered and  nervous.  He  told  me  a  long  hard-luck  story 
that  I  don't  remember.  .  .  .  We  were  playing  cribbage. 
.  .  .  There  was  a  row.  .  .  .  He  pegged  eight  when  he 

301 


Sadie 

ought  to  have  pegged  only  six.  .  .  .  What's  the  mat- 
ter?" 

Sadie  had  drawn  back  from  him  and  was  staring 
wide-eyed  into  his  face. 

"  Nothing,"  she  managed  to  reply ;  "  go  on." 

"  Just  as  he  shot  I  ducked  ...  hit  my  head  on  the 
corner  of  the  table.  ...  It  knocked  me  out.  .  .  .  When 
I  came  to  he  was  gone  ...  So  was  my  suitcase  and  my 
money.  .  .  .  Never  would  have  thought  it  of  him  in  the 
world.  .  .  .  But  that's  what  I  say — '  You  never  can  tell.'  " 

He  reached  out,  smiling,  to  take  her  hand,  but  as  she 
spoke,  some  quality  in  her  voice  restrained  him. 

"  What  was  his — his  name  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Lacy " 

With  a  little  sharp  cry  she  flung  both  arms  about  his 
neck  and  drawing  him  to  her  kissed  him  again  and  again, 
murmuring,  "  O  boy !  Boy !  "  Then,  even  before  he 
had  recovered  from  the  amazement  her  action  induced, 
she  sprang  up,  ran  to  her  pony,  and  mounting,  rode 
away,  leaving  him  to  follow  as  he  chose. 

A  space  he  sat  there,  thinking,  gazing  the  while  at  a 
huge  cactus  ball  out  on  the  sand  beyond  the  mesa's 
shadow  line. 

"And  yet  she  wouldn't  marry  me,"  he  muttered, 
"  even  after  kissing  me  like  that  just  to  show  how  glad 
she  was  the  son-of-a-gun  didn't  happen  to  plug  me." 

The  mesa's  shadow  line  had  crept  across  the  distant 
cactus  before  he  rose,  at  last,  and  mounting  his  pony 
rode  away. 

Bagdad  lay  before  him,  the  uneven  fronts  of  Main 
302 


Well,   After  All— 


Street  shimmering  in  the  sun  of  late  afternoon.  At  the 
further  edge  of  the  town  sprawled  the  red  water  tank; 
on  his  left,  to  the  south,  ran  the  railway;  beyond,  in 
every  direction,  within  the  range  of  distant  ragged  peaks 
— the  desert.  A  passenger  train  had  pulled  out  ten  min- 
utes before,  yet  some  of  the  locomotive's  smoke  was  still 
visible,  floating  like  a  plume  of  vapor  against  the  cloud- 
less sky. 

The  polished  brasswork  on  the  observation  platform 
of  the  private  car  that  Number  5  had  left  on  the  siding  be- 
yond the  eating  house  glittered  in  the  sunlight.  A  private 
car  on  the  siding  at  Bagdad  was  still  an  anomaly,  and  Wat- 
rous  brought  his  pinto  to  a  walk  as  he  approached.  The 
nose  of  the  little  animal  was  not  three  feet  from  the 
glittering  platform  grill  when  the  narrow  door  opened 
and  a  man  wearing  a  suit  of  khaki,  and  russet  puttees, 
and  a  wide-brimmed  hat,  stepped  out.  Between  him  and 
Watrous  there  passed  a  flash  of  recognition,  and  as  the 
man  in  khaki  leaned  over  the  rail,  Watrous  sprang  from 
his  pony  and  dropped  the  reins. 

"  By  Jove,  Mr.  Armstrong,"  he  cried,  "  how  are  you ! " 

And  Curly  Watrous  permitted  himself  to  be  fairly 
dragged  into  the  private  car  of  the  first  vice-president  of 
the  Salt  Lake  &  Gulf  Ry.  Nor  was  he  aware  that  the 
little  scene  was  witnessed  from  the  porch  of  the  Palace 
Hotel  by  Sadie  and  Billy  Thompson. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  next  day  he  rode  forth 
into  the  desert  with  the  man  in  khaki,  and  the  next,  and 
the  next,  but  on  the  fourth  day  he  came  back  to  Sadie. 

Together  they  walked  a  little  way  down  the  track 

303 


Sadie 

where  they  found  a  seat  on  a  packing  case  in  the  shade 
of  the  water  tank. 

"  You've  come  to  say  good-by,  Curly,  haven't  you  ?  " 
she  asked. 

He  took  her  hand ;  she  did  not  attempt  to  withdraw  it 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  glumly. 

"What's  the  use  making  a  funeral  of  it?"  she  re- 
proved. "  I'm  glad." 

He  gave  a  little  shrug. 

"  Is  Mr.  Armstrong  a  friend  of  yours  ? "  she  in- 
quired. "  You  see  I  know  him.  He  was  at  the  Palace 
this  morning." 

"  Yes,  he's  a  friend  of  my  people,"  he  told  her,  "  back 
in  Philadelphia.  Sadie,"  he  ran  on  hurriedly,  "  his  is  the 
only  old  face — the  only  old-home  face — I've  seen  in  all 
the  time  I've  been  out  here.  He's  told  me  all  about  my 
people,  and  the  chaps  I  used  to  know,  and  the  town.  Lord, 
we've  sat  up  till  nearly  morning,  every  night,  down  there ' 
in  his  car,  talking.  It's  been  like  being  back,  almost, 
just  to  hear  him.  And,  Sadie,"  he  pressed  her  hand, 
"  I've  got  to  go.  I've  got  to  walk  up  Chestnut  Street, 
and  cross  over  to  Walnut,  and  go  down  Broad  to  Market, 
and  just  walk  and  walk,  and  dodge  the  cabs  and  the 
street  cars,  and  buy  a  paper  of  a  newsboy — think  of  it, 
Sadie,  to-day's  paper  to-day!  And  I'm  going  to  sit  in 
a  theater  again,  Sadie,  and  eat  a  meal  in  a  swell  restau- 
rant, and  loaf  in  the  lobby  of  that  big  new  hotel  he 
told  me  about ! "  His  grip  upon  her  wrist  tight- 
ened. "And  in  four  days,  Sadie,  I'll  be  doing  it  all — 

just " 

304 


Well,  After  All— 


"  Four  days,"  she  breathed.  "  When  are  you  going, 
Curly?" 

"  To-day — on  Number  3." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  then  and  turned  away. 

"  It'll  be  here  in  a  few  minutes,"  she  reminded  him 
calmly. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied.  "  I  put  it  off  till  the  last 
minute." 

She  turned  to  him  then  and  smiled. 

Taking  both  his  hands  in  hers :  "  You're  going  back 
home,"  she  murmured ;  "  back  home.  Did  Mr.  Arm- 
strong tell  you  anything  about  that  girl ?" 

He  knew  he  need  not  avoid  her  eyes  now. 

"  Yes,"  he  confessed  with  a  little  smile,  "  he  told  me 
about  her,  too " 

"  O  Curly,  I'm  so  glad !  It's  all  come  out  right, 
after  all,  hasn't  it  ?  Just  the  way  I  knew  it  would.  And 
you're  going  back  home — back  to  her.  O  boy,  good-by ! 
Good-by ! " 

The  complete  Bar-Y  outfit  galloped  up  the  cinder 
siding  in  a  bunch  as  Number  3,  East  bound,  took  on  the 
car.  Their  boyish  foreman  and  the  vice-president  stood 
on  the  platform. 

"  Good-by,  '  Curly-locks,'  and  Gawd  bless  yeh ! " 
shouted  Bub  Gleason,  waving  his  new  quirt. 

"  Give  my  regards  to  Broadway !  Remember  me  to 
Herald  Square !  "  cried  another,  new  on  the  range  that 
season. 

"  Good-by,  boys !  "  Watrous  called  back.  "  When  I 
305 


Sadie 

get  home  I'll  eat  lobster  and  crabs  for  every  man  in  the 
outfit — back  there  where  they  never  saw  a  horned  toad !  " 

Up  ahead  the  engine  bell  rang.  A  great  cheer  arose 
from  the  riders  on  the  siding  and  with  one  accord 
every  puncher  in  the  outfit  whipped  out  his  gun  and  a 
salvo  of  shots  was  the  Bar-Y's  Godspeed  to  "  Curly 
Locks." 

But  the  thoughts  of  "  Curly  Locks,"  that  last  moment, 
were  not  of  the  bunch.  Misty-eyed,  he  shifted  his  gaze 
over  their  heads,  past  the  red  station,  and  across  the 
white,  dusty  Main  Street,  to  the  porch  of  the  Palace  hotel, 
where,  beside  a  green  pillar,  stood  the  white-clad  figure 
of  Sadie.  He  waved  his  hat.  She  saw  the  motion  and 
waved  her  handkerchief  in  return,  and  to  him,  on  the 
first  breath  of  the  evening  breezes,  was  carried  her  shrill 
cry: 

"  Good  luck !  " 

Billy  Thompson  found  her  half  an  hour  later  in  the 
little  enclosed  back  yard  of  the  Palace  where  the  open 
gate  in  the  fence  framed  a  narrow  picture  of  the  desert. 
At  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  Sadie  turned. 

"  This  came  for  you,  about  ten  minutes  ago,"  he  said. 
"  Robinson  brought  it  over."  And  he  gave  her  a  tele- 
gram. 

Her  cheeks  went  pale  as  she  tore  open  the  yellow 
envelope,  but  with  a  single  glance  at  the  written  words 
she  sprang  up  with  a  cry : 

"  O  Billy,  they're  coming  to-night — Frances,  and 
Grace  and  her  husband!  Think  of  it,  Billy!  Think  of 

306 


Well,   After  All- 


it !     The  telegram's  only  from  Ash  Fork !     Billy !     Billy ! 
I  want  to  jump  up  and  down  and  dance!" 

And  she  did  dance,  through  the  little  gate,  out  among 
the  cactus,  across  the  sand.  Then  suddenly  she  became 
calm  again. 

"  Billy !  "  she  called,  and  as  he  appeared  she  pointed 
and  asked :  "  What's  Jerry  Rowley  doing  out  there  by 
Skinny's  grave  ?  " 

With  infinite  labor  the  storekeeper  had  trundled  the 
little  monument  across  the  sand  in  a  wheelbarrow  and 
now  was  engaged  in  setting  it  up. 

Billy  told  her,  and  when  he  had  explained  it  all  she 
turned  to  him,  without  thought  of  her  tears,  and  seizing 
both  his  hands  exclaimed : 

"  O  Billy,  how  I  love  this  country !  " 

They  walked  back  to  the  fence,  then,  and  he  found 
a  seat  for  her  on  a  box  that  once  had  held  four  dozen 
tins  of  corn,  and  drew  another  alongside. 

From  the  kitchen  behind  came  the  high-pitched 
voice  of  the  Chinese  cook  berating  one  of  the  Mexican 
girls. 

"  Sadie,"  Billy  said,  "  has  Curly  gone  for  good  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

He  began  leisurely  to  fill  his  pipe. 

"  Maybe  I  ought  not  to  mention  it,"  he  went  on,  "  but 
I  couldn't  help  noticing  the  trend  things  have  been  taking 
since — since  that  night.  I  never  felt  that  I  knew  Curly 
very  well.  He  never  spoke  of  himself,  though  I  sup- 
pose, maybe — he  told  you " 

"  He  told  me  everything,  Billy,"  Sadie  interrupted. 
307 


Sadie 

"And  I  guess,  maybe,  you  had  something  to  do  with 
his  going,"  he  ventured. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  wouldn't  say  that,"  she  replied. 

"  Anyway,  he's  gone,"  he  pursued.  "  Sadie,  ever 
since  you've  been  here,  this  old  town's  been  different 
from  what  it  was  before.  And  ever  since  you've  been 
here  I've  been  different,  too " 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Billy,"  she  interrupted.  "  I  know 
what's  been  in  your  mind  all  the  time.  And  I  know 
what's  been  there  mostly  the  last  ten  days."  She  smiled. 
"  You've  been  wondering  about  Curly — and  me.  Billy, 
do  you  remember  I  told  you  once  that  I  could  never  go 
away  from  this  country?  I  feel  it  more  to-day,  Billy, 
than  ever  before.  I  could  never  make  you  understand 
what  bein'  out  here,  as  I  am,  has  meant  to  me.  Curly 
Watrous  was  just  an  echo,  Billy — an  echo  from  back 
yonder.  That  night  I  saw  him  down  at  San  Luis  I  heard 
it  for  the  first  time — I  heard  it  again  the  night  I  got 
hurt — and  I've  heard  it  every  day  since.  But  it's  been 
fainter  and  fainter  each  time.  It  was  a  test  to  me, 
Billy,  and  I  stood  it;  that's  all.  Do  you  remember, 
coming  back  from  that  dance,  too,  Billy,  I  told  you 
that  once  there  was  a  time  when  I  could  have  killed  a 
man " 

He  took  her  hand.  "  Wait  a  minute,  Sadie,"  he 
said ;  "  that  was  before  you  came  out  here,  so  it  don't 
count — with  me.  Look  off  there."  He  pointed  to  the 
north.  "  It's  raining  off  there.  Look !  See  how  the 
sun  shines  through.  And  it  don't  even  touch  the  ground, 

308 


Well,  After  All- 


that  rain ;  the  sun  pulls  it  up  again  before  it  hits.  That's 
the  troubles  of  the  old  life,  Sadie.  It's  the  rain.  And 
even  when  it's  coming  down  the  sun's  shining  through. 
And  look,  all  around  where  we  are  there  ain't  a  speck — 
nothing  but  bright  light.  We're  in  the  middle  of  it — 
you  and  I — in  the  middle  of  the  sunshine " 

Sadie  rose.     "  Let's  walk  out  yonder,"  she  said. 

"  I  know  it,"  she  went  on,  after  a  moment ;  "  nobody 
knows  it  any  better  than  I  do.  It's  all  clear  to  me  now — 
as  clear  as  day.  It's  just  as  I  told  him — I  belong  out 
here " 

"  We  belong  out  here  together,  I  guess,"  he  replied. 

They  stood  beside  Skinny 's  grave,  and  Sadie  read  the 
words  on  the  monument,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Dear,  dear,  little  fellow,"  she  murmured. 

Their  hands  touched,  and  her  fingers  closed  around 
his. 

"  Yes,  Billy,"  she  said,  as  if  to  herself,  "  I  guess  that's 
so — I  guess  we  belong  out  here — together." 

"  You  mean,  Sadie,"  he  pleaded,  "  that  after  all " 

She  turned  to  him  then,  and  put  her  two  hands  on  his 
shoulders  so  that  their  eyes  met  squarely. 

"  I  mean,  Billy,  dear,"  she  said,  "  that  if  you  want  me 
I'm  yours,  but  whether  you  want  me  or  not,  I  love  you ; 
and  I  guess  I've  loved  you  all  the  time  without  quite 
knowing  it." 

"  Sadie !     Sadie !  "  he  whispered  rapturously. 

"  Look,  Billy !  "  she  cried.  "  Look.  It  ain't  raining 
any  more — even  'way  off  there.  The  sun's  shining  just 
the  same  as  't  is  here." 

309 


Sadie 

"  The  sun's  shining  everywhere,  Sadie,"  he  replied ; 
"  the  whole  desert's  filled  with  sunshine — now.  Listen !  " 

On  the  little  back  porch  of  the  Always  Open  sat  San- 
some  practicing  on  his  concertina.  The  strains  were 
borne  to  them  across  the  sand,  on  the  evening  breeze, 
and  catching  the  air  Sadie  smiled. 

"  What's  that  he's  playing?  "  Billy  asked.  "  Sounds 
kind  o'  familiar,  don't  it  ?  " 

Sadie,  her  eyes  brimming  with  mirth,  drew  the  edge 
of  her  lip  between  her  teeth,  and  pressed  his  hand. 

"  Don't  you  remember  ? "  she  replied.  "  It's  that 
thing  from  Lohengrin  you  hear  so  much." 


(i) 


THE    END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIWALUBRARy 


A    000  040  376     6      — 


